


The Leaf Saga

by The_Axolotl



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Horror, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Axolotl/pseuds/The_Axolotl
Summary: AU. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Naruto is born cursed into a world defined by cruelty and war. The Godaime Hokage's heartless attempts to draw out his inner demon's power leave him changed. His masters have their orders; the world, its expectations, but there is only one who can decide Naruto's true reason for existing: himself.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter One

**The Leaf Saga: Chapter One**

_Warnings: Alternate Universe, graphic violence, adult themes._

_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

**A Road in Frost Country**

* * *

The hollow rumble of thunder was everywhere, overriding the relentless din of a storm that had built itself up into a full-blown squall. Rain pelted down from the inky haze above, a million little bombs of water that exploded against a narrow mud path and the impossibly dense forest that encroached upon it. Limbs heavy with dark green coniferous leaves shook lunatic limbs over top the narrow mud path, writhing as the storm blew whistling overhead. The hour was such that not even a hint of the sun's brightness touched the stormy forest, which swept across the lands with its impossible richness and density as far as the eye could see. Barring lightning strikes, the sole light in the land came from a lantern, affixed to a lonesome wagon, creaking and rocking its way down the muddy path. In the scant rays cast by the lantern, a single ox, laden in thick iron armor engraved clearly with Kumogakure's insignia could be seen pulling the cart which was of a simple, two-wheeled design, wooden in construction and topped with a stretch canvas roof. A nearby flash of lightning, followed quickly by a harsh boom and more hollow, rumbling thunder, afforded a brief camera-like snap of light by which the lonesome wagon's two occupants could be seen silhouetted within.

Inside the wagon a pair of men sat situated across one another on opposing benches.

Silence reigned.

The stench of fresh grief clung to the duo, most obvious in the rigid posture of the larger man and the dead eyes of the smaller. They were a mismatch, these two—one a tall, brown-skinned man with large muscles and light clothing; the other much shorter, with a lighter frame and skin-tone, obscured in large part by the dark garb he wore. The smaller of these two men was no man at all, but instead a boy, still early in his teenaged years. His head was wrapped entirely in bandages save for around his eyes, and where it covered his temple, blood soaked through, leaking free to run a slow, half-coagulated trail down his exposed neck. Most injuries had little effect on this one and vanished quickly, but this was an insidious wound, unique in its ability to hurt him in this slow healing way. His riding companion bore injuries too, hidden beneath his worn attire. The eyes that stared out from behind the mass of medical bandages were hollow and unfocused.

The larger of the two, a man by the name of Killer Bee, bore the uncomfortable ride with faux stoicism, watching in a rare silence as his traveling companion's juvenile frame shook noiselessly. Bee's teeth rested clenched behind his unaffectable façade. Each of his hands laid hidden, tucked into his sides as he sat arms crossed. Big, friendly brown palms itched to reach out and comfort his pupil, to rest their sure weight and warmth down atop a boy he knew desperately needed it. He looked at him and felt the depths of his own despair echo though, and when the faces of those so recently taken rose in his mind, like ghosts from the fresh graves he'd damned them to, Killer Bee was struck with thick, clogging pain. In the end, as the wagon continued down the long muddy path, and the rain and trees continued their frenzied song, and Naruto, his last surviving student, stared at nothing and shook and bled, he held his false calm and stayed silent. They were halfway through the Land of Frost now, having just passed Lightning Country's southern border into the evergreen territory that morning, and still had a full week's worth of trip left before they'd finally reach their destination, Konoha.

' _Two_ weeks,' Bee corrected himself, as the wagon they were in fell in and out of a particularly bad pothole, jarring the whole cart and them along with it. The trip would take half as long were they allowed to run it, but their mode of transportation had been chosen specifically for them by his brother, the Raikage, himself. They were both still injured from… before, but Konoha had demanded—in no uncertain terms—the _immediate_ return of their jinchuriki to them, and with the way the war was starting to turn, well, it was no time to be straining what few alliances they had. The Sand-Stone Pact had posed formidable enough a foe for Bee's tastes, but now with Mist entering the conflict, opportunistic batch of murders the lot of 'em, things were going to get much worse.

' _God damn it_ ,' he thought, the pain in his chest deepening as he foresaw his and Naruto's imminent parting. Bee knew what life in Konoha had been like for Naruto. It hadn't been pretty.

The thought of dumping him back in Konoha like so much rubbish turned his stomach, but there was nothing for it. Bee was needed on the frontlines now, and Konoha wouldn't tolerate his pupil's absence for a moment longer than was necessary, now that things had changed.

He just prayed the damn Leaf bastards didn't cause more harm than could be fixed—Naruto was a damaged soul, queer and out of place in this world of carnage. Bee saw in him a potential that far outshined any he'd known—himself included—but the world had been cruel to the boy, and in its cruelty robbed him the bulk of his fighting spirit. What was left was malformed and dangerous, and without the proper mentorship, without _his_ mentorship, he feared what may come to pass. That cursed Hokage of theirs would care nothing of his reservations though and would probably be inclined to send Naruto off to fight as quickly as he could. Bee could only hope there would be those in the Leaf who'd oppose that decision. Shimura Danzo was as hawkish a leader as Bee had ever seen, but if the man had one redeeming quality, it was his ability to take counsel. Whoever they chose would be naturally worse suited to the job than he, but Bee supposed the most likely outcome of this whole debacle would see Naruto working in a new cell under a new sensei.

The thought almost curled his lip, but again, he held his composure. He was still in charge of Naruto for a while longer, and it behooved him not to ruin the good example he'd tried to set so far. When he returned home and was inevitably sent to the frontlines, he'd allow himself to cut loose. For now, with the agony of loss weighing on them both so heavily, he needed to stay strong.

Bee opened his mouth, determined to broach the subject with Naruto, to at least try and prepare his last remaining student for the coming difficulties, but for once, he failed to find his voice.

The wagon rolled bumpily on, its oxen driver unperturbed by the hellish weather beating down on them. They were still a fortnight from Konoha. Bee resolved to talk with Naruto later, but for the moment, held his silence.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later: Haruno Residence, Konoha**

* * *

Pink hair fell in damp tresses around Sakura Haruno's face, teasing at her cheeks and bare neck. She was naked, lying back in the tub of her upstairs bathroom, the water having drained away hours ago. Green eyes once brighter than gems and filled with zest now swiveled dully behind puffy red eyelids, peeking out through rose lashes to spy the empty sake container on the other side of the dark bathroom. It was tipped over. Its matte grey porcelain was chipped at the lip, taunting her with its dry mouth. She could still taste its bitterness on the back of her tongue, even as her intoxication was slowly replaced, the unmistakable nausea and headache of a hangover settling in fast.

'Empty,' she thought, although the word GONE had actually come to her mind first. It was the last of her parents' supply, a meager lot though it'd been, and the unavoidability of what awaited her outside the smooth chill of the empty bathtub now that the rice wine and whiskey and blackberry brew were all gone loomed heavy and close.

The temptation to just lay there forever was like a drunken lover, holding her prisoner with needy limbs and slurred words. Her eyes began to droop again until, spurred on by a wave of self-loathing, her body jerked, and she abruptly sat up. Fingernails once grown long in vanity had turned to talons in her dereliction and now gouged bloody crescents into her palms as she tensed, eyelids clenching and hands fisting as too many emotions flowed through and ravaged her. Pain spiked behind bloodshot eyeballs, and a shiver ran through her. Her stomach threatened to revolt.

"Come _on_ ," she cried out to herself, only to go immediately still in the next instant. Her fists relaxed and her eyes peeled back open slowly. There'd not been a single word spoken in her parent's house… in _her_ house, for an entire month now, and her own mouse-like chords struck her as unfathomably loud and offensive. A feeling of deep wrongness switched places with the marrow in her bones. The world was not right, would not _be_ right, ever again. She listened carefully, jaw lightly open, for anything.

There was nothing.

With a quiet click, Sakura's teeth snapped closed.

When the silence had been restored, she climbed to her feet and wrapped an overly fluffy white towel around her gangly nakedness. A little blood leaked out of her cut palms and stained it where she touched, transferring crimson stickiness to the pale skin of her breast. A frustrated sound gurgled in her throat, but scared to bleed noise into the empty dwelling once again, Sakura managed to hold her calm and silence. With a second's concentration, the green glow of medical chakra sprang to life in her palms, lighting the dim bathroom and sealing her wounds. With a mental command, it vanished, and she left to get dressed. Five hours of drunken haze would have to serve in sleep's place—she could see the night's sky giving way to morning light and knew there wasn't much time left. If she didn't hurry, she'd be late, and on her first day as a proper graduated kunoichi no less.

Sakura's jaw set at the idea. She may have become numb to most everything else following her parents' slaughter, but in the singular case of becoming a kunoichi of Konoha, her ambition had only grown, _multiplied_ , even, as the drive to prove herself was murdered and replaced with the need for revenge. The need to solve their murder was all that drove her now—the need to solve it and _avenge_ it. And supposing she didn't find out who was responsible? Supposing she never learned which symbol was carved into the murder's hitai-ate? Sand, Stone, Wave… they were all likely suspects, and like corpses on her table, she'd dissect their cold dead bodies and find the answer. She was a weak girl. She was a stupid girl.

But a squeamish girl, she was not.

* * *

**Uchiha Compound, Konoha**

* * *

Sasuke Uchiha sat and watched the sun peek over the horizon through a spider's web. Its silken strands spanned the gap between an oak tree's hefty limbs, framing the sky beyond. Morning dew still clung to the web in droplets and sparkled in the dawning sunlight like diamonds. He could see no spider haunting the web from here despite his active Sharingan, but he knew it couldn't be far—breakfast, as it was, had been served. Bound within the clinging web was a luna moth, beautiful and elegant unlike the bulk of its kind, with gorgeous green wings and a tapering arrowhead's shape. Their arrival in Konoha was traditionally associated with the village's springtime celebration.

His mother had loved them.

It twitched and writhed against its prison, unintentionally drawing out its new master with its delicious suffering. The spider that came was barely half the size of the trapped moth and ugly. Brown like rotten bark and cursed with a thousand uneven hairs, the spider was slow in its approach, either out of caution or glee or some other factor, Sasuke could only guess. When finally it reached its new prisoner, however, it struck with great speed, sinking its dripping fangs into the moth and then backing off in the blink of an eye. He knew nothing more of arachnids than which ones to avoid and fear, but he could tell that this one, at least, had a venom purposed for something other than instant death. Fully-matured Sharingan eyes missed nothing, and even as the moth's wings grew still, and the spider moved to begin wrapping it within inescapable silk, and the ANBU woman's mouth stimulated him to orgasm, his stolen essence captured expertly within a medical container, Sasuke saw that the moth still lived. An almost imperceptible expansion and collapse of its cocoon told him of its continued breathing, of its continued _living_.

The woman between his legs wiped a spot of drool from her cheek and cupped his scrotum, painted fingernails digging into the sensitive skin. His lips pulled taught in a wince as she formed half a tiger seal, and his legs fought not to seize as the fuinjutsu around his genitals reactivated. He continued to watch the moth breathe as she reattached her mask and left, as wordlessly as she'd come—as they always _were_. He didn't acknowledge her either and instead remained as he had been, watching the moth, not bothering with returning his softened member to his pajamas just yet. Three black tomoe spun in his eyes like triplet corpses, floating endlessly in a whirlpool of blood. One of his hands began to shake entirely of its own accord, but not even as he pinned it still with its twin did his cursed eyes lift. Only after the moth had finally perished, its tiny form stilling at last as it suffocated, did he allow himself to blink, looking away as the spider closed in once again and began eating the corpse.

With revulsion thick in his veins, and a shake working up through his body that spawned in his toes and climbed till his head was bowed and his fists were balled and shaking, and stinging salty tears filled his closed eyelids, Sasuke nevertheless managed to dredge up enough willpower to touch his filthy privates and return them to decency, the throbbing ache in the pit of his belly a never-ending reminder of the seal around his manhood. Hate, black and oily like bubbling tar, surged through him. Aimed in every which direction, he was possessed by the feeling and indiscriminate in his unkind thoughts. He hated himself, for being so pathetic and weak— _too weak,_ as he'd always been, to control his fate. He hated this world, and especially this cursed village, the wickedness it served and the smile it served it with... More than anything, he hated his brother, _Itachi_ , the dead fool. He was the architect of all Sasuke's suffering, had engineered it no matter his intent, so masterful in his craft that even years after his death, new punishments for Itachi's sins were still being visited upon him.

Sasuke's shoulders, bouncing till then with inaudible sobs, gained a twisted quality in their movements as quiet laughter began bubbling up. Nothing was especially funny, but there was something undeniably _amusing_ about the irony of it all. Itachi had explained it all to him that night, ANBU armor still wet with the lifeblood of their parents and clan: to prevent the Hokage from starting the next war, he would deal a blow so severe, and in doing so, _spare_ _him the horrors_...

Sasuke buried his face in his hands, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. Oh, but the irony was _exquisite_ , was it not? On every single account the genius had been dead wrong. Sasuke would become a full-fledged ninja today and be immersed in all the war the world could offer soon thereafter. Itachi's 'sacrifice' hadn't amounted to _anything_ , and in sparing him he'd simply provided Konoha and its Hokage a focus upon which to vent their frustrations. It was from this tragic hilarity that Sasuke learned the most valuable of all the lessons Itachi had to teach him: no matter how hard a person tries and no matter what they sacrifice, the world cannot be fixed. Theirs was an existence of titanic gears and ancient cogs, fit together in the earliest days and maintained in the deepest parts of the human soul, and no amount of suffering, no mass of dead flesh, would ever, _ever_ be enough to jam its pitiless machinery.

Sasuke's laughter came to a choked end, and for a moment, his three-tomoe Sharingan seemed to waiver. All humor fled him, and in its place, _rage_ suddenly seized him, digging its curved teeth into his soul and shaking, _shaking like a hound,_ until Sasuke was sure he'd go mad if he didn't do _something._ Blood boiling, he lurched to his feet, bared torso filling as, with a great, wheezing gasp, he sucked in an impossible gulp of air. There was stillness for an instant, and then, all at once, he spat out a screaming, horrible inferno, gushing flames of orange and white and blue that descended upon the lonesome oak tree across him like a murderer on their first victim. The spider and the moth and the web binding them were turned to ash in an instant, along with all the tree's leaves and smaller twigs. From there the branches caught, resisting the fury-eyed teen's flames for only seconds longer before coming undone as well. The trunk proper was next, and in no time, that too was ash on the ground and smoke in the wind. Only when this was so did he cease channeling his ninjutsu, his breaths harsh and uneven.

Crackling charcoal and the pleasant scent of oaken smoke filled the silence.

Sasuke's lips were blistered from the uncontrolled technique, and the hate in his guts was none the lesser for the effort. He was an animal caged, and the jitteriness in his bones seemed to have put down _roots_.

Still... as he stared into the last of the flames, taking care to observe the blackened flakes of ash as they stirred in the wind, he was able to find some semblance of serenity, hiding back in the dark corners of his mind, twisted, mean thing though it was. It was true—there was no stopping the cogs of this world from turning, turning, _turning_ inside the great suffering machine. There was only one way off this ride, and Sasuke had sworn to forsake that path at all costs, which left only one option: if he couldn't halt the machine, couldn't escape it, couldn't _fix it_ , then he'd just have to _destroy_ it— _burn it_ , and everyone who got in his way, back to dust.

The intoxicating cocktail of bleak emotions swirling inside him slowly drained, leaving clarity in its wake. It would take time, but strangulation had turned Sasuke patient.

If the accounts he'd heard were to be believed, the average time from graduation to deployment was barely three months. It was just as well, in his mind. He'd need help getting his flames hot enough for what he had in mind, and there existed no finer forge than open battle. Singed lips tweaking in an unpleasant smile, Sasuke Uchiha dressed and left the overgrown ruins of his clan's compound and began off for the academy. The journey of a thousand miles, as they say, begins with a single step. It was time to become a shinobi.

* * *

**Shinobi Academy Rafters, Konoha**

* * *

The Konoha of today was different to the point of unrecognizability from the Konoha of fourteen years ago. Take the academy, for example. The changes in Konoha's academy, implemented by Godaime Hokage Danzo Shimura fourteen years ago, saw sweeping changes in the way Konoha shinobi were formed. Not only had the old building been replaced—torn down and rebuilt into a full-on compound—the methodology itself had been entirely restructured. Beginning much earlier at the age of five, and lasting until fourteen, theirs was a long and exceedingly comprehensive curriculum designed to produce a superior grade of ninja. Some early critics had called it an indoctrination machine, but the loudest among them had gone mysteriously quiet soon after, and no more was said against it. What _could_ be said about the program was such: genin these days graduated with traditionally chunin-level capabilities and were already far-enough along in their training to have started the process of specialization. For example, Sakura, having tested into the Medic Program at twelve, already had two years of solid experience practicing and honing medical techniques under her belt. While lacking hours as a field-deployed combat medic, realistic drills and extensive time served in Konoha's hospital provided her with as solid a base as was possible. Similar specialization programs were implemented and fleshed-out over the years, including a specialized Tracker Program, Infiltration Program, Assassination Training, the Vanguard Program, and more. Sasuke had been part of the Vanguard Program, which focused on cultivating raw combat proficiency and devastating high-damage techniques. He, like Sakura in the Medic Program, had excelled under the new system.

Of course, for every gain, there is a cost. Some of those mysteriously missing early critics had cited concerns over the weakening of the 'Will of Fire', that decades-old Konoha mantra embodying the themes of teamwork and kinship, which some believed had been the driving force behind Konoha's greatness to begin with. And it was true, to an extent: the graduates of recent years had gone on to see compelling success in the field but were undeniably missing _something_ that'd been present in the squads of generations past; Konoha teams these days tended to act more as squads of soldiers, rather than as members of a family. Once more, this breaking-down of the squad-kinship dynamic had been pointed to as evidence of the Godaime's intentions—his view that a shinobi should love his village above all else well known by this point. Still, it was a spectrum, and while the average had shifted towards the individual as a Konoha shinobi and away from them as a member of a family, there were still relatively new teams that had spent their entire time in the academy under the new regime, and who had gone on to form unbreakable bonds with their genin squad. When this behavior was not actively opposed by the Godaime, Konoha's shinobi ranks relaxed. They were an adaptable bunch, and so long as teams were not actively being torn apart by the Hokage, they did not mind the changes being implemented. They produced effective war fighters, and in these times of war that's what was needed above all else.

Or so the sentiment seemed to go.

Kakashi, hidden in the rafters of the aforementioned Shinobi Academy, had his own reservations about the new way.

Hidden from the five senses, and with his chakra suppressed to an adequately low level, Hatake Kakashi silently observed the three teenagers below. Team by team had been assigned and summarily collected by their jonin until only his batch remained. He'd shown up long ago, an hour before any of the academy staff, even, and had been watching ever since—this year's crop in general, but especially the three teenagers he was to oversee.

What he saw worried him.

There was Sakura Haruno, the recent orphan girl, sat near the front. She wore a simple red tank-top beneath the Medic Program uniform—a kind of black apron-dress hybrid meant to assist in field operations of the life-saving sort. Made of a kind of rubbery composite, it had thin plates of treated steel interwoven in the back, to protect against sneak-attacks while applying aid or operating in the field. The whole thing was hydrophobic to avoid extensive blood-soaking, and looked very similar to an apron, save for the armored back portion. Riding just above the right breast was a white plus, the Medic Program's symbol. Her pants were of the same material, though unarmored, and ended in standard issue combat boots.

If he were just going by her attire, Kakashi wouldn't have been so concerned, but…

Her pink hair was messy, her eyes were circled with fatigue, and, even from his place hidden in the rafters, Kakashi's sensitive nose could detect the remnants of alcohol on her breath. She'd done a serviceable enough job donning a mask of placidity upon arriving earlier that morning, fooling the bulk of her classmates, but even just using the one, she was still a swirling mass of pain in Kakashi's eye. Her file listed her as having a razor-sharp intellect, with a focus on memorization and deep-systems comprehension. Already she had shown well above-average aptitude in the medical field, and a talent for trap-making.

She also, apparently, had quite the temper.

Her core aptitudes were listed as average, with slightly stronger taijutsu and slightly weaker ninjutsu. Her genjutsu was fine. Kakashi could think of a thousand and one ways to cultivate her skills and zero to heal the hole in her heart.

Had he that skill, Kakashi would have used it on _himself_ years ago.

Next up was Sasuke Uchiha, also an orphan, also deeply troubled. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt embroidered with the Uchiha clan crest, and over it, the olive-green camo vest of the Vanguard Program. Littered with pouches stuffed with various implements of death and destruction, the vest also bore the institution's emblem on the right shoulder—a flaming skull. His pants were dark and ended in boots that, like the rest of his clothing, was heavily durable and especially fire retardant.

He had taken up residence near the back and was staring out of an open window presently. Kakashi might have mistaken his look as an absent gaze if not for the slowly spinning Sharingan the boy had active. Whatever he was looking at, it had held his attention for an hour now.

In all that time he only blinked twice.

There was stiffness in his muscles, and a quality about his gaze that Kakashi could identify with, if not fully articulate. It was not a good thing. As for his file, Sasuke Uchiha was supposed to be the top of this graduating class. Speed, strength, smarts, he had them all in spades, with the thoroughbred instincts of a hundred generations of warrior ninja coursing through his veins. He was more than proficient in the core curriculum taught at the academy, but truly shined when using his lost clan's techniques, especially the fire ones. His Sharingan was fully matured and his reserves had stretched wide enough that he could use it excessively—something it seemed he'd taken to doing, if his hour spent staring out the window with his eyes activated was anything to go by. It probably wasn't fantastic for his psyche to spend so much time looking at the world through the warped lens Kakashi knew the Sharingan to be, but then, he figured in this case, his concerns were tantamount to drowned men complaining about _rain_.

The boy, he could already tell, would be a handful.

Which brought him nicely along to the final member of his little team: one Naruto Uzumaki, the son of his sensei and Konoha's resident jinchuriki—and one of Kakashi's greatest failures.

Only recently back from an extended two-year stay in Kumo spent under their jinchuriki master Killer Bee, his return was marked by tragedy. Kakashi knew what it was to lose friends and teammates and allies of all kinds—almost none had had the impact on his life that losing his genin team had. One by one they'd been taken from him, and little by little he'd changed as a consequence. Only his father's suicide had carved a larger slice out of his heart.

And speaking of carved-out-slices, he could see now the proof of what he'd been told weeks ago: while Naruto's nature as a grand demon's vessel granted him impossible healing and regeneration, someone had figured out a way to hurt him all the same. Where once the boy had had a head full of wild blond locks half a foot long, he now wore his hair shaven down to a buzz—a necessary action taken by Kumo's medic nin to treat the pair of deep furrows sliced into the boy's head. He imagined it must have been a gruesome wound to fight around in the field, despite the rather innocuous scars left behind—the demon's doing no doubt. Starting mid-temple and ending a few inches further straight back on the side of his head, the two lines that ran were hardly noticeable against his skin, and only as obvious as they were because of the pattern they cut into his hair, the uniquely damaged tissue forever unable to host new follicles.

He was an awkward boy. Kakashi knew he ought to count it a miracle the kid wasn't stark raving mad or a serial killer, but he still felt disappointed. For all that his face bore the mixed features of his parents', landing on the border between handsome and pretty only because of his intimidating new scars, Kakashi could find no hint of his beloved sensei in those dead eyes, no reflection of the Red-Hot Habanero in that sullen stare. He sat now as he had since arriving earlier that morning—silent and reserved. Being new would have meant the class's interest regardless, but being _Uzumaki Naruto_ , Konoha's Kyuubi, meant blatant stares and whispers. The boy's chosen garb didn't help in the matter either—a simple, loose-fitted black kimono with the kanji for 'Nine' on the back in white, and black training pants. No shirt. No socks. No shoes. No hitai-ate. Kakashi understood _why_ the boy wore what he did, but still… it was very conspicuous.

Naruto Uzumaki's file was both better than he could have hoped for and worse than he'd dared imagine. The bulk of the information in his file had been entered either by Killer Bee or Kumo's Raikage. Information from his decade spent under the Godaime's control was tellingly absent. Still, some of the data points that _were_ provided gave Kakashi hope: according to the reports, Naruto was quiet and reserved, but also reasonable, and more compassionate than anybody had a right to expect, all things considered. He'd formed real bonds with his previous teammates, and had sustained his wounds trying to protect them, nearly dying in the process. Like Sasuke and Sakura, his file had touched on his intelligence in a positive way, specifically on his aptitude for creativity and quick adaptability. Kakashi approved of all these qualities and hoped they had not been irreparably damaged by the boy's recent tragedy.

The rest, however…

Naruto's training focused heavily on tapping into his potential as a jinchuriki, giving little time for him to hone his fundamentals.

The results were mixed, to say the least.

The report had grown rather dense in covering this aspect, but the highlights included his ability to manage up to a four-tailed state, an enhanced sensory system (hence his current layered stealth jutsu), an atypical summoning contract, and, the two that truly disturbed Kakashi, unfettered communication with the demon sealed within him, and a susceptibility to fits of youkai-fueled rage.

He would have liked to have spoken with Naruto's previous sensei, Killer Bee, about exactly what all _that_ entailed, but hadn't been granted the opportunity. By the time he'd been informed of Naruto's return, the Hachibi container had already left, forced to go back to his home country and aid in the battles cropping up on the new eastern front. Kiri nin had been making things difficult for Konoha along the crescent coast to the south, but Kakashi knew the bulk of their offensive was being leveraged against Lightning. As a peninsular country, Lightning was in for a long and brutal fight against the sea-trained foe.

Focusing back off of Naruto specifically and considering his new genin as a unit, Kakashi killed a sigh attempting to rise, and steeled himself. There would be little time for his beloved drama and theatrics with this bunch. They were too damaged to be left to their own devices; their potential, too valuable an asset to Konoha to ignore; and they were all far, far too close to this damnable war, which was quickly exploding out of control, to be anything but the center of his focus from now until either this war ended, he died, or they did.

They were rougher around the edges than a bunch of rusty saws—in urgent need of a care and help he did not have the ability to provide, and which the world was not interested in allowing. Injustice painted them all with its shadow. He would visit even more upon them. His job demanded it. Still, in a world that had exerted crushing pressure down upon them already, one in which the name of the game was bend or break, Kakashi could respect the fact that these three had not yet broken.

Dropping his concealment jutsu saw Naruto's head snapping in his direction, they boy's cool blue eyes wide and penetrating. Dropping to the front of the room an instant later saw him gathering the other two's attention as well. In each of their eyes he saw a preparedness to kill and hardened himself further.

'For all that I admired you resistance to breaking,' he thought, 'there are consequences to bending too far as well.'

He held faint hopes that when all was said and done his team would not end as twisted as his instincts screamed they were now.

"Sorry I'm late," he began, no hint of apology in his easy, bored voice. There would be little room for whimsy, but some things were too much a part of him to carve out. "I got lost on the road of life."

He'd just have to do his best.

* * *

**Shinobi Academy Rooftop, Konoha**

* * *

When Team Seven's new sensei suggested a change in scenery, none of the genin assigned under him had any trouble following him up the Academy's wall to the roof. Water-walking, never mind _wall_ -walking, was a mandatory part of the curriculum.

Naruto, despite never attending a day at the Shinobi Academy, had long known the skill as well. No matter how exacting the Godaime's expectations for Konoha's fledgling ninja were, they paled in comparison to the crucible Naruto had been put through.

_Not crucible. Hell—that's what it was. Torture, of both the literal and figurative flavors. Yum._

The roof was a simple affair—a wide, flat expanse of sunbaked concrete with benches and picnic tables arranged about. It was a popular destination for academy students on their lunch break but was deserted now for graduation week. The sun was approaching its zenith in the blue Fire Country sky but lacked the excessive heat it would gain as spring turned to summer. Messenger hawks flew overhead. The concrete was warm against his feet. It should have been beautiful, but…

Naruto missed the overcast skies of Kumogakure. His face was blank but his heart ached dreadfully. His appetite had completely deserted him these past two weeks, and the gross lack of food left him feeling weak and dazed. Restlessness hid beneath his skin like a parasite, infecting him with unease and a dread that never quite made it to his face. The scent of the air here was enough to trigger memories, not just in his brain, but in his bones and in his blood. They were wholly unpleasant.

Despair though he may internally, reality remained unchanged—after almost two years, he was back _here_.

'Konoha,' he thought, squinting eyes shifting from the sun to the carved mountains to the village below. His memories here were weighted heavily towards the negative, with enough tipping over into full-blown horrible that he'd have been happy never to step foot here again.

Despite his best efforts, he found himself dwelling on the circumstances leading up to his return. The twin scars on his temple hurt, like the ones in his soul—one for each of them…

The black and pink heads of hair walking ahead of him were briefly brown and blue.

He had no right, not after failing them as he had, but _God_ , how he missed them.

Tamako-chan... Mai-kun...

For the briefest moment, he'd actually believed Bee-sensei's promise. A family of his own...

With a blink, they were gone, brown darkening to black, blue flipping to pink.

_Never again._

**'Pay attention, boy,'** the grand demon sealed within him murmured, its voice a crumbling mountain of rumbly bass and ancient command. Naruto's nose was filled with the scent of rotting flesh. Kurama was awake. **'The human speaks.'**

Naruto blinked and did as his partner bid, shaking off his inattention and listening in.

"—Kakashi Hatake, and I will be your jonin sensei starting today," was the first Naruto caught. It seemed he hadn't missed much.

The man, Kakashi, was perched atop a picnic table across from the bench they'd sat on. Naruto was in the middle, with the Uchiha kid on his left and the pink-haired girl on his right.

'Sasuke and Sakura,' he reminded himself.

Kakashi paused, allowing them a moment to size him up, before continuing. "Let's start with some quick introductions, break for lunch, and then meet back up. Training Ground Five's ours till we deploy. You three are to meet there every morning at seven unless I say otherwise. I do not tolerate tardiness." A lone grey eyebrow rose in challenge. "Any questions?"

Naruto's lips thinned at the hypocrisy, but he said nothing. His pink-haired teammate, face set in a tired scowl, spoke up instead.

"We _three_ are to meet there at seven?" she parroted back pointedly, bloodshot eyes narrowed.

Naruto wasn't sure how, but despite three-quarters of the man's face being hidden either behind his face mask or slanted hitai-ate, his brain had no trouble interpreting his sensei's smile just via the crinkling of his exposed eye.

"Exactly right, genin! And, if there are no other questions, let's try and get through introducing ourselves quickly. We'll be learning more about one another after lunch, so there's no need to over-share just yet. Just give us your name, likes, dislikes, any hobbies you might have, and whatever your dream or goal is for the future. Stuff like that. Who's first?"

Naruto didn't even consider volunteering. He felt like a stranger in this village. He _was_ a stranger. Lightning Country had become something like a home over the last two years, and even that wasn't quite right. The decade he'd spent here before that had been… unpleasant, to say the least. Sasuke and Sakura had spent the last nine years schooling at the same academy, so even if they weren't friends, they at least knew each other to some degree— _he'd_ spent his time in Konoha bouncing from tutor to tutor to tutor. Each had been assigned to him by the Godaime, each had tried to draw out the Kyuubi's power from within him, and each had failed. Their methods had ranged from conventional to silly to perverse to cruel to downright evil; there was really only one way—Bee-sensei's way—to draw the demon's power out in a useful manner, which of course was why, after ten years of bashing his head against the wall, the Godaime finally agreed to send him off to their ally to the northeast.

He could only guess their reasons, but neither of his teammates volunteered either. Sasuke wore a resolute scowl, and Sakura, a hybrid tired-distracted frown, her arms crossed over her chest.

Kakashi's sigh came out muffled—his face mask's doing. "Fine, fine. I'll go first. My name, you already know. My likes…" here he paused, favoring them with a more serious look than before. Naruto got the feeling the cyclops was trying to decide whether or not to mess with them some more. In the end, he didn't. "I like to read," he said simply. "I dislike most people. Hobbies? Reading again, I suppose. And, well, _this_ ," he said, arms spreading and motioning to them. Sakura laughed once through her nose, although it was more of a huffing exhale than a true laugh, and Sasuke sneered. Naruto kept his face resolutely unaffected. Kakashi's eye did that crinkling smile thing again, although there was something somber about it this time. "My goal right now is to help each of you reach your own. That, and of course, keep you all alive—but I'm assuming those two things overlap quite a bit, mm?"

He'd said it as a joke, but this time, all three of them wore carefully blank expressions. There was a quick second of unexpected intrigue shared between the three genin, where each shot the others short, inquisitive glances. It grew awkward fast though and ended abruptly with a fake throat-clear from Sakura, who took the growing silence as her cue to go.

"My—ahem, my name is Sakura Haruno," she said haltingly. "I look forward to working with all of you," she added, flashing a weak smile their way. Something about it struck Naruto as very worrying. "I like reading too, and uh, working at the hospital, and fishing in the Naka River with my... I-I mean, j-just fishing in the river, actually..." Sakura's voice trailed off, her eyes growing distant. Then she blinked, and was back, a light blush dusting her nose and cheeks the only tell of her lapse. "I don't really have any hobbies besides that, unless you count studying and training. I-I do like to keep busy though."

There was more silence, and once it became clear she wasn't going to speak again of her own accord, Kakashi piped up. "Dislikes? Dreams for the future?"

Sakura's blush darkened further, and her head bowed. For a moment, Naruto thought she may still refuse the question, but then a quiet, sad sound leaked from her pale throat, and she whispered her answers: "I hate Kirigakure and I hate Sunagakure and I hate Iwagakure and my dream is to make them all so, so sorry for what they've done. That's all."

The light blush on her cheeks grew unsightly and red, and Naruto found himself unable to look away. Even as she stared down at her feet, her back hunched and her arms straight, resting balled fists atop knobby girl knees, his eyes remained glued. This close, he could smell the peppermint of her toothpaste, and the sweet remnants of sake hidden beneath it on her breath. Micro-thin veins colored the whites of her eyes bloodshot and clashed beautifully with the dazzling green of her irises. Her pupils were dilated, and he _knew_ she meant what she said—didn't just kind-of sort-of want it but _lusted_ after the opportunity. He tried to imagine feeling so strongly about anything, tried to imagine what it must be like, to actually _know_ what you wanted…

_God, she's pretty…_

Face warming, Naruto abandoned his blatant stare, turning away from the girl in short, jerky movements till he was sat facing straight. His features remained passably unaffected, but he knew extra color lived in his cheeks—he could feel the warmth. Kakashi didn't act like he'd noticed, although he must have, leaning in as he was to rest a comforting hand on Sakura's shoulder. Sasuke _definitely_ noticed, and favored him with a nasty look, lip curled back in condemnation.

Embarrassed, Naruto's shoulders hunched inward. Sasuke turned away.

Beside him, oblivious to the byplay, Sakura let out a sniffle and offered a meek and formal "Thank you for your kindness, Sensei," before sitting up straight. Her eyes were green like the first leaves of spring and filled with liquid emotion, but no tears fell. She took a second to master herself, and a moment later, looked passably unaffected, save for the sorrowful glint that lived on in the shadows of her face.

Naruto tried not to stare.

"Welcome to Team Seven, Sakura-chan," Kakashi said, voice warm and paternal. Looking towards him and Sasuke, he then asked, "Who's next?"

Dreading his turn, sure that he would make a fool out of himself, Naruto was relieved when the Uchiha beside him spoke up.

"My name is Sasuke Uchiha," the dark-haired teen on Naruto's left said. He had an even worse look in his eye than Sakura, and Naruto found himself wondering if anyone in Konoha _wasn't_ messed up.

"I look forward to working with you all," he said, though it was clear that was only true in the loosest sense, if at all. "I like to train. I dislike," his lip twitched in a momentary snarl, " _everything_ else. I have no hobbies. My dream for the future…" His eyes did not activate the Sharingan again, but all the same, a certain intensity filled their dark depths. "I," he continued carefully, "want things to… change. That's it," he reaffirmed, nodding. "I want to make things change."

Naruto felt sprigs of intrigue take root. He was a scary guy, unfriendly and even shorter spoken than himself, but it seemed Sasuke too had a definite goal he was working towards. Naruto was jealous of his new teammates' sense of purpose.

Sasuke said no more, and Kakashi didn't push, just eye-smiling and nodding. "Welcome to Team Seven, Sasuke-kun."

"Hn."

"And that leaves us with you," Kakashi said, crinkly eye turning to Naruto at last. "How about it?"

Naruto's fingers played at the hem of his kimono, bare toes fidgeting with nerves. He did not like to talk much, especially to strangers and _never_ about himself. He had no idea what to say. Likes? Dislikes? He was a jinchuriki. A tool. He didn't do things, things were done either _to him_ , or _through him_ —it was hard to say what he liked when for the longest time there hadn't been anything about life he'd enjoyed. There were some things, _new_ things, that he had discovered and learned to admire, but… What if this was a test? What if the Godaime had put Kakashi up to this, to learn what his weaknesses were—to exploit and manipulate him once again? There were more direct avenues available to the man, but Naruto had _long_ since learned that the Godaime was not the type to move in obvious ways, even when it seemed that way.

_Especially when it seems that way…_

He searched the tall jonin's face for any hints, but between the concealing garments he wore and the level expression in his eye, Naruto couldn't tell one way or the other.

**"Answer superficially then, boy,"** Kurama growled from the back of his soul, **"but** _ **answer.**_ **Your dithering tries my patience."**

'Hai,' Naruto thought apologetically, manually reclaiming his squirming digits, forcing himself to be still. Looking from one face to the next, he introduced himself quietly. "Hello. My name is Naruto Uzumaki. I look forward to working with all of you. I like…"—s _tories-nature-Kurama—_ "ramen."

Kakashi's lone eyebrow crept upwards, while Sasuke and Sakura blinked.

"I dislike"— _shinobi-pain-killing—_ "tight clothing. And shoes. They hurt my feet." _Hobbies?_ "I enjoy cooking. That's like a hobby, right?"

Quietly to his side, Naruto heard Sakura whisper to herself, "He likes to _cook?_ "

Rubbing the top of his foot with his big toe, Naruto shrugged. "I have no dreams for the future," he answered, completely honest. A sad, slightly more open look graced his delicate features. He scratched a lone finger along his scars. "I don't have any kind of ambition like you three." He gave a light shrug, the look dying back to dead. "Sorry."

The silence following him was palpable, with all three other members of Team Seven staring at him. He was pinned, stuck in the middle of Sakura's disbelieving look and Sasuke's unimpressed one. Nerves back on the rise, his fingers found the black hem of his kimono once again. Kakashi's blank expression didn't help things, the most diluted hints of disappointment like a ghost, haunting the edge of Naruto's psyche.

"Uh, welcome to Team Seven, Naruto-kun."

His shoulders hunched. He knew well enough that his answers were inadequate and not what these people—driven, purposed group of nin that they were—had been hoping for from him. He was 'Konoha's Kyuubi!' they'd be thinking. Shouldn't he be more… _more?_

_He likes to cook?_

His big toe came back to rub pointlessly at the top of his opposite foot. A crease worked into his brow. He _knew_ , okay? They'd rather he be bloodthirsty, rather he be cold, rather he be a patriot or a slave or a monster, rather he be something _, anything_ more useful to them than just _some boy._ It was what every shinobi he encountered felt, deep down. He was a jinchuriki, wasn't he?

'It's not like I chose this,' he thought bitterly, listening with half an ear as Kakashi quietly dismissed them for lunch, instructing them to meet back at Training Ground Five in an hour. The jonin disappeared in a whooshing shunshin, with Sasuke a mere second behind him.

Sakura lingered for a moment, looked at him, and then failed to stifle a yawn big enough to pop her jaw. She slapped her hands to her mouth, cheeks heating once again, and promptly shunshined away as well.

Naruto was left alone on the Shinobi Academy roof, a small humor mixing in with almost overwhelming resignation and gloom. A few minutes passed in silence, until he sighed and stood.

'This is for real, huh?'

The unmistakable scent of rotting bodies, and then: **'What ails you?'** the Kyuubi asked, alien feelings of curiosity washing around his ankles like low-tide waves.

Naruto shrugged, a small, false smile on his lips. 'It's like the last two years never happened.'

**'How so?'**

'Tamako-chan, Mai-kun… Even Bee-sensei, in his own way. They're all gone, and I'm back _here_. _Alone._ '

More alien feelings washed over his ankles, this time most resembling offense. **'Truly?'**

Naruto smiled, settling a hand over the black swirl that appeared on his stomach. Touching it like this, their ability to commune was increased, and emotions flowed even more easily. He pushed the warmth and gratitude he felt through the seal. 'No,' he thought softly. 'But you know what I mean.'

A low rumble vibrated through his soul—a contemplative hum emanating from Kurama's titanic form. **'Konoha is as unpleasant a setting for me as it is for you, boy, but are you certain the present will mirror the past? If your mistreatment before was done in a bid to unlock my power, surely our pact now means there is no more need for such things. Your being assigned to a squad proves as much.'**

Naruto's lips curled into a light grin. 'You're being uncharacteristically optimistic, partner,' he thought, finally leaving the abandoned rooftop. He chose a more leisurely method than his teammates and simply walked down the side. Naruto barely knew Konoha despite the time he'd technically lived here and wasn't sure where to go for food.

'Just 'cause he knows better than to waste time with that stuff doesn't mean the alternatives'll be much better. Did you see the way they looked at me? They think I'm worthless just 'cause I don't have any grand aspirations like them. Is wanting to live really so disgusting? And what's wrong with liking to cook? Would they've been happier if I had added 'people' to the end?'

Kurama's nose twitched in a single snort. **'I suspect not. Is this why you fret? Because you fear their opinions?'**

Naruto slowed, reaching the ground one bare foot at a time. 'No, I—'

_**'Boy.'** _

Naruto's lips pursed into a pout, the look sending his already fine features tipping over into the feminine. He set his feet to walking without much care, negative thoughts swirling. Kurama had a very… _particular_ sort of personality, and was often impossible to read, even though he and Naruto spent a great deal of time talking about all manner of things. Still, in some respects, he was perfectly consistent. Intolerance in the face of deception was one example. Self-indulgent whining was equally unwelcomed by the fox.

Naruto's lips unknotted themselves, falling again into placidity. 'I miss my team,' he said instead of answering Kurama's question. 'I want them back.'

To this, the fox held his peace, letting Naruto mull and form his thoughts in silence. As he did, their wandering lost its aimless quality and his bare feet led them towards a scent on the wind, all but unconsciously.

They were still some ways away from the source when Naruto continued.

'I know they're gone,' he said, and the grief pouring into the seal was enough to crease Kurama's brow. 'Forgive me,' Naruto quickly apologized, allowing the seal to fade and his hand to hang limply at his side.

He thought of his old team, and then his new. 'I know they aren't _them_. I know. Nobody could replace them... But partner, it had felt _so nice_ , once we finally came together. Once we all got over ourselves and learned to accept each other. _It'd been so nice_ —even if it was short…'

**'You desire companionship with your new team,'** the fox diagnosed, neither accusation nor judgement in his eternal voice, just observation and fact.

Naruto's thin shoulders bounced in yet another shrug, loosening his kimono's fold. He was normally adept at blending into crowds, no matter the fact that he really should stick out, but the movement drew the eyes of a woman walking towards him down the alley. He'd been out of Konoha for two years now, but his was not the most discrete get-up, and by the time they were within talking distance, her eyes were wide with recognition.

"Uzumaki-sama," she greeted, pressing clasped hands to her waist and bowing.

"Good afternoon," he greeted back with a nod and an awkward smile. He pretended not to notice the quiver in her voice, or the terror in her eyes. The people of Konoha had suffered greatly the night of Kurama's rampage fourteen years ago, and no amount of pressure from the top was going to erase the fear and hate so many of them held in their hearts. Naruto knew there was only one way to overcome their hatred—knew it well, thanks to Bee-sensei—but just… couldn't. The endless positivity and constant effort it would require… maybe when he had been very little, or maybe in another life, but not here. Not now. The desire to be liked lived on in him, but as a flickering flame, rather than an inferno. It required only the barest of kindling. The tiny intimacy he'd enjoyed with Team Bee had been plenty, plenty, _plenty_ enough for him—he would have never ached or complained once for more, so long as they stayed.

But they had gone.

He walked past the woman without another word.

'Am I a fool?' he asked the demon in his soul, eyes spying his destination in the distance. The word ICHIRAKU hung printed on a tapestry sign. 'Having people to cherish, who cherish you back… it isn't something that's meant for me, is it? That's why Team Bee was torn apart. That's why it hurts so much. Would it be better if didn't try to get along with them? If I just… closed up? Kept my mouth shut and followed orders until they're done with me? Wouldn't that hurt less, in the end?'

The stand—Ichiraku Ramen, it was called—used a series of square canvas dividers as a combination doorway/wall, with each square section painted a different menu item's name. Pork! Shrimp! Miso! and others were displayed in bold red kanji, swaying lightly in the springtime breeze. Naruto lifted the section marked Veggie! with the back of his hand, and slipped in silently, still waiting for Kurama's response. He was Naruto's constant companion and trusted confidant, and he valued the old demon's opinion above all others.

Even as he claimed a stool and placed his order ("One extra-extra miso ramen, coming right up, Uzumaki-sama!"), the elderly chef's features unfalteringly pleasant even as he recovered from the surprise of recognizing him, Kurama held silent. He was not the type to speak without care, rather unlike Naruto himself, and could not be rushed.

Life, and especially his fifth tutor, who after hearing of the methods associated with sage training had theorized bindings and immobilization were the key to unlocking the Kyuubi's chakra, had taught Naruto patience, very much so by force. He was content to wait, and tucked into his meal when it was served, sure that when he was ready, the old demon would speak.

More than halfway in, he finally did.

' **Humans are fragile creatures, even in the best of times.'**

Naruto, a thin bundle of _delicious_ broth-soaked noodles dangling from his mouth, gave the equivalent of a mental nod. 'And these aren't exactly the _best of times_.'

A low rumble of agreeance. **'Correct. Loss is a constant threat, and the crux of your dilemma. Should you close yourself off, the pain will be lessened, but loneliness will hold you as its captive. If you open your heart however, you agree to exist at the extremes—content when those you cherish are around, but destitute, should they ever leave or be taken. This much, you are aware of.'**

Naruto dabbed at the corner of his lips, staring into the salty depths of his lunch. A distorted reflection stared back. He bit his lip with sharper than human teeth.

'And partner, it's so hard in the first place. People are so confusing. I don't think Team Seven likes me very much to begin with. Team Bee was uniquely comfortable with me being... y'know. Normal shinobi can't handle working beside me. They're too fearful. Too hateful. Even if I decided to try, I'm sure I'll fail.'

Another titanic hum, and a few more silent minutes, and then, **'What you say is true. All of it. In your position, I would simply close myself to them, and treat them as tools to serve a purpose.'**

Naruto bowed his head, delicate chin touching lightly-defined collar bone. He knew it made more sense, but…

' **That said,'** Kurama continued, the sensation of being closely considered filling Naruto's chest, **'I am not in your position. You, boy, are in your position. And you are** _ **ningen**_ **. Human. Born like the rest of your kind with an incomplete soul—one that not even I can fill. You can survive on your own, but like this, you will never be content. You will never find** _ **purpose**_ **.'**

Naruto's breath hitched. His eyes stared dully ahead, unblinking.

' **That is the difference between us, boy. You are a malcontent creature—unable to find meaning in simple existence as I do. Prone to desires and susceptible to your fears, you long even for that which you have never had.'**

'What are you saying, Kurama?' Naruto asked, hand surreptitiously pressed against the black spiral once more on his stomach.

' **Do you miss your mother?'** he asked suddenly, but with the same calm voice. **'Your father? Your lost clan? If you could have them back for but a single day, would you?'**

Naruto's fingers began to shake, and so he made a fist. 'Yes,' he thought without hesitation. ' _Yes._ Of courseI would. _Of course!_ '

There was a shifting in his soul, and Naruto knew without seeing that the mountainous demon had risen to its paws. **'Then listen, boy. Calm yourself and hear my words. No matter your choice, pain will lay siege to you for as long as you live—it is in the essence of this world and not something that can be avoided so easily. I would have thought** _ **you**_ **, at least, would know this much. I tolerate your flaws because you are honest with me, and because I too know what it is to be a prisoner of circumstance. Our pact is forged as steel could only hope to be. We are** _ **partners**_ **. However, a human soul can only be content when paired with its kin. Should you commit your heart to isolation? If that should truly be your question, then allow me to answer your first: yes, Uzumaki Naruto, you are a fool.'**

Frozen shock slowly melted, leaving a small, soft smile in its wake. Naruto pushed these warm feelings through the seal, until Kurama turned away from him to lay once again, grumbling all the while. Smile widening, he moved his hand from the seal and stirred the lukewarm remnants of his ramen, pondering over the elder demon's words. He had a peculiar way about it, but there was no mistaking Kurama's words of encouragement as anything else.

He never said it would be easy—and even now, with his partner's purposed counsel ringing in his ears, the grief of loss weighed on him—but Naruto still felt ten times better than he had. The fear of opening himself up, of being rejected, or worse yet, of being accepted, and then having that taken away once again… There was no way he'd have decided to risk it on his own. Better to carve out the bits of himself that yearned for such dangerous things and just survive—right?

_But if Kurama thinks there's a chance…_

He slurped down the rest of his ramen broth, savoring the flavor.

_Ichiraku Ramen, huh? It's pretty good._

A little paradise in hell—that was all he really needed.

'Thank you, Kurama,' he called into his soul. A short hum filled him in response.

He paid his bill and left the stand. The sun was still high in the sky. With a belly full of ramen and a weak flame in his heart, Naruto set off for Training Ground Five.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading the first chapter of TLS. I have two more chapters finished, the first of which will be added next weekend with the second following a week from there. After that, please be patient as I work to continue the story. I would love to hear your impressions and/or any constructive criticism you may have. I will try to address any direct questions that come in as promptly as my availability allows.**


	2. Chapter Two

**The Leaf Saga: Chapter Two**

_Warnings:_ _A_ _lternate_ _U_ _niverse, graphic violence, adult themes._

* * *

**Konoha Training Ground Five, After Lunch**

* * *

"You want us to _what?_ "

Kakashi eye-smiled at his new subordinates, tall grey hair and jonin uniform rustling in the warm Konoha breeze. He and the rest of Team Seven were gathered in the village's largest training ground (baring the infamous Training Ground Forty-Four), Training Ground Five. Far from the urban center of Konoha, it lay just within the village proper, with the northern edge of the border wall barely visible in the distance. Training Ground Five was characterized by the wide flat plateaus that covered it, and the harsh, plunging ravines that divided them. Tributaries off the Naka River flowed through the land here like blood vessels, splitting now and then only to reconnect further along. The tops of the plateaus were barren and flat save for a few impressive large boulders. The tree line of the forest they'd come from lay a short clip to the south.

It was atop one such barren plateau that Team Seven now stood, each of the genin watching their jonin instructor carefully—critically—as though he were a madman set to snap at any moment.

"Mm, it's like I said: I want the three of you to try and kill me, while I do my level-best to kill the three of you right back. This way I'll know where you're at on a technical level and where we need to improve—supposing you're good enough to survive at all." He shrugged. "No point training trash. It'll also give us all a good opportunity to learn more about one another. You are your truest self when fighting for your life, you know."

Kakashi was tickled to see his thinnest student—jinchuriki to the most powerful demon known to mankind—was squirming like a schoolgirl, wringing the hem of his black kimono, youthful features twisted in concern.

" _Sensei,_ " he pleaded, "with all due respect or whatever, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course."

Sakura chewed at her lip. Sasuke scowled.

"You're underestimating us?" the vanguard alumnus asked, voice low and laced with anger. "You'll regret it if you are." His jaw was set, and Kakashi added 'dismissive' to the list of things the kid's fur went up at. He had a feeling it'd wind up being a long list.

Hiding a smirk, Kakashi feigned a disinterested shrug. "Unlikely."

Sasuke's lip twitched, wanting to curl. He mastered it a moment later, but his Sharingan eyes blazed a promise to make the tall jonin eat his words.

"Are there any rules?" Sakura asked. "Techniques we shouldn't use, or…?"

She was fishing for more info. Kakashi approved.

"There aren't. Fight like your life depends on it, because it honestly does."

"You don't want us to hold _anything_ back?" Naruto stressed. He was looking at him as though he'd lost his ever-loving mind, and Kakashi was strangely moved by the genin's concern—even if it wasn't exactly in-line with traditional shinobi philosophy. Caring for an enemy too much was hazardous.

Sakura and Sasuke seemed to suddenly understand just what the blonde jinchuriki was alluding to, if the wary glances they now aimed in Naruto's direction were any indication.

"Yeah," Sakura said, eyes bouncing back and forth between Kakashi and Naruto. "Yeah—is that really okay Sensei?"

A grey eyebrow drew to a frown. Kakashi looked at Naruto sternly and said, "It had better be. We're on schedule to deploy in ten to twelve weeks—your file said you can control it—"

"I _can_ ," Naruto stressed, angry flush rising up his exposed chest and neck. He looked imploringly at his teammates. "I can." His anger faded as quickly as it flared, leaving a petulant slant on his lips. "I won't hurt you guys."

Tension tried to build, but Kakashi cut it short with an overly cheery, "Good! Then we can go ahead and—"

"But you're asking me to hurt _you."_ The blonde leveled accusing eyes his way. His toes scissored anxiously in the sandy pebbles below. "I'm not a very good ninja, but if you're not setting any limits…"

"I'm not asking you to try and hurt me," Kakashi corrected, setting a hand down atop finely buzzed gold. The kid flinched at the touch and looked up shyly through long eyelashes. His shoulders were narrow with boyhood. Kakashi smiled sadly. "I'm asking you to try and _kill_ me."

Naruto's face soured and darkened. His eyes shot off to the side, and he pushed Kakashi's hand off him with the back of his wrist. "I knew it," he mumbled, refusing to make eye contact again. "You all want the same thing."

Kakashi shrugged, masking the twisted guilt in his stomach as only a veteran shinobi could. "It'll be okay. I should see where the three of you are at before we get started on other stuff—how else can we develop our team strategies? None of us knowing what the others are capable of? You can bet your cute genin asses whoever we run into out in the world'll know how to work together, and if we don't know how to as well, then… Imagine trying to beat a tough opponent in shogi when you don't know what the pieces do."

Sasuke's glowering eased considerably at Kakashi's explanation, but Naruto didn't seem convinced. Surprisingly, it was Sakura who spoke up.

"Even if you put it that way Sensei, a 'fight to the death'—even if just as a drill…" Her eyes were clouded and unfocused. She was obviously mulling something over in her head, and Kakashi felt like he might understand. Then, like a droplet in a hot pan, the distraction evaporated off of her frame, and her look morphed to the cool professionalism of an emergency medic—a look she must have adopted sometime over the last two years working in Konoha's hospital. "But even if you aren't worried about yourself, _I_ still am. You and the rest of us. This team's health is my concern now. If anybody gets seriously injured and I can't deal with it, we'll be in big trouble. This place is so remote… I don't know that we'd make it back to the hospital in time."

Naruto nodded, so Kakashi looked to the last member of Team Seven to gauge his opinion.

"…it would be annoying if you died," Sasuke reluctantly admitted.

Kakashi killed the relief welling up inside him. It was a load off his shoulders to see these three showing concern over a comrade's safety, something that'd been steadily weakening among new genin under the Godaime.

Relieved though he may be, Kakashi felt a spike of irritation too. It was nice that they cared, but he could do without all the teenaged rebelliousness wafting off of them. He liked people who thought for themselves, but wished they had a little more faith in him.

'It's not fair to ask them to trust me though, just like that,' he mused to himself, holding the three before him under a no-nonsense gaze in the meantime. Hopefully once this exercise was over, they'd trust him—and each other—enough to work as a team. It was the true purpose of this little drill, after all.

'But first, a reality check.'

Kakashi's gaze flattened to dead. Killing intent leaked from him, poisoning the air as he left his slouch and stood straight and tall. Like this, it was impossible to forget the gap that existed between him and them. When he spoke, his words were cold and measured. "Don't confuse me for your homeroom teacher. It's not my job to make you happy or put you at ease." Old-fashioned nin-sandals scraped quietly against the sediment below. His long fingers twitched, the rectangular holster on his hip close by.

The genin tensed.

"It is my job to make you _shinobi,_ by any means necessary. The kiddie gloves are long gone. These are _war times_ , and you three are to be _war fighters_. But before we let you out there we need to know if you can handle it. A fight for your life. For the lives of your team. There'll be no 'gradual easing into this', no slow climb up the mission ranking ladder. We've got three monthsto get ready and then it's into the shit. I was called back from the front a month ago for this assignment. It wasn't pretty then; it will not be prettier in three months."

"If my commands seem too cruel to be real or too tough to bear, keep this in the back of your minds: it is _nothing_ compared to what's up next. So believe it, bear it, and shut up. Time is one factor. Godaime-sama's mandates are another. If I tell you to fight like your lives depend on it..." Kakashi exploded forward, palm-thrusting Sasuke's nose to the side, catching Sakura's ribs with a hip-snap kick, and, with one smooth motion, burying a kunai clear to the ring inside Naruto's right shoulder, immobilizing the joint in a spurt of blood, "then you can assume they do!"

A trio of cries half-pained and half-surprised loosed from the genin. Sasuke and Naruto stumbled back, and Sakura fell, just barely rolling to a crouch through the pain. Kakashi stood before them all, relaxing back to a neutral posture.

"If you hesitated like this in the _real world_ you'd already be—"

But he wasn't allowed to finish his gloating. A hail of agile swallows formed of fire and white-hot plasma dive-bombed his position, forcing him back. It wasn't a technique he recognized, and Kakashi allowed himself an internal curse at the missed opportunity to copy Sasuke's jutsu, but again, wasn't given any time to think as the swallows that landed where he'd just been exploded, kicking up dust and rubble with violent booms. Out of this dust the stragglers of Sasuke's conjured flock emerged, three in total, corkscrewing around one another for extra speed as they rushed him, each avian missile screeching as it flew.

'Not bad,' he thought, instincts computing the birds' trajectory like a supercomputer, 'but not great either, blocking your own line-of-sight. Angry, Sasuke-kun, aren't we?'

Hands blurring, Kakashi went through twenty-five focusing seals in a quarter second, and in the next half of one, shot no less than twelve missiles of his own, composed of super dense water, each the size of a fist. The first three collided with the flaming swallows, extinguishing them in a blast of steam. Those that remained continued on, punching vacuum-like holes in the dust cloud as they soared, three for each genin, one where they had been, one where his mind said they would have gone, and one where he himself would have dodged.

He was two parts pleased to one part annoyed to hear all nine of his water missiles splash simultaneously against an unseen surface. Cross-elemental jutsu weren't _that_ difficult to perform, but based solely on their chakra natures, Kakashi guessed it was Sakura who raised the barrier, her own earth nature pegging her as the likely candidate. He knew her chakra control was phenomenal from the nine-years-worth of reports he'd read tracking her performance, but to raise a stone barrier thick enough to stop his jutsu so quickly, all without making a sound? He was impressed.

With another nigh-instant chain of handseals and some internal chakra manipulation, Kakashi primed his next ninjutsu. He squinted as the reddish-brown dust cloud blew lazily past his face, carried away on a warm wind. By now, the cloud of terracotta-colored haze was thin enough for him to see through. The stone wall was a dozen meters away, and unlike its mistress and her teammates, had not escaped his water bullets unharmed. Large, jagged scars told of the hidden spiraling he'd worked into the bullets, which had in turn carved swirling craters in the slab in a rough grid pattern. It wasn't enough to demolish the wall though, so when sudden, jagged cracks raced across the slab's surface, his instincts screamed for him to dodge.

It was a good thing he listened, for the moment his face left the space it'd been occupying, Sasuke entered it boot-first, leaping forward with a roundhouse kick aimed at knocking his head off.

A truly vicious look painted the boy's face. His nose was crooked and inflamed and fed out of it a runny river of red, painting the Uchiha's lips and chin in sappy crimson. It was definitely broken, but even as he sailed through the air over the boy's head, hands still holding the final seal of another jutsu, Kakashi saw the black and red of Sasuke's Sharingan eyes tracking him.

Looking to exploit his apparent vulnerability, Sasuke lashed out, hands fishing pre-rigged kunai from his vest and hurling them his way in one smooth motion. His speed was good, easily low to mid jonin level already, but his strategy was stale. He threw four kunai in a triangular pattern, each armed with an explosive seal already sizzling away. The first three were meant to box him in, and the fourth—sent straight and true—to catch him center mass. The tactic was well executed, but simplistic.

Mirroring his student's attack, Kakashi too withdrew a weapon from his flak jacket, one hand still set in a half-ox seal. Rather than kunai, Kakashi threw a pellet, which with a puff of dispellment smoke revealed itself to be a mesh net made of high-grade steel wire, weighted heavily at the ends. After that, three things happened in quick succession: Kakashi and Sasuke's thrown tools met in the air, the net wrapped around and trapped the cluster of explosive kunai, and Kakashi finally released his primed ninjutsu. Channeling the technique with the palms of his hands, Kakashi sent out a high-pressure wind column, the sheer speed and density of which made the air warble and distort. This advancing shaft of wind found and accelerated the bundle of steel and tags Sasuke had inadvertently supplied him with, and sent it careening back at the teen too quickly to dodge.

There was a blast of fire, a scream, and then silence.

* * *

**Konoha Training Ground Five, Remnants of Sakura's Stone Wall**

* * *

Sakura, crouched over Naruto, looked up at the scream, green eyes wide and bloodshot as they scanned frantically for Sasuke. Her bruised ribs screamed at the sudden movement, but she was already healing them and too shaken to care. Nine years in the academy together, and she'd _never_ heard Sasuke make such a sound. It scared her.

Her mouth fell open as she found him. He must have used a fire technique—he knew so many she could only guess which one—to burn the bundle of steel headed his way, incinerating the tags before they could go off. It had been flying simply too fast for him to dodge. She could see from here that the wire, sharp and fine, had inflicted several lacerations. Worse though, and undoubtedly the cause of his agonized yelp, the same fire that destroyed the seals had also heated the net, leaving the wires to not only cut but _char_ him as well. The medic in her counted him lucky to have blocked with his forearm, sparing his face and chest. The girl in her was horrified. Not at the injury, for she had seen far, _far_ worse, but at their sensei's carelessness. Sasuke really could have died…

_Fight me with the intent to kill, like I'm your worst enemy, come to take your life._

'He wouldn't…' she thought, real fear working up her throat like bile. There was killing intent in the air though, and she had to question, was she really willing to bet her life that this jonin _wasn't_ crazy enough to kill them on their first day together? Was she really willing to _chance it?_

_If you die, you'll never find those responsible. Mommy and daddy won't be able to rest._

Like a switch, the panic that'd been rising up her back halted, and the years of drilling and training and studying came flooding back to her. Shaking hands stilled. Wide eyes focused. She took another look at Sasuke, studied the way he was breathing— _harsh, but not uneven—_ the way he was standing— _back straight, knees slightly bent—_ and the look on his face— _jaw set in a wince, he's hurting, but his eyes are steady and focused—_ and considered her options, all in an instant. She could rush to his aid but knew from the academy that he'd be more careful now. He'd fight defensively for at least the next several minutes, looking for an opening now that his attack had failed. She also had to consider her role as the team's medic. One of the first things they beat into your skull in the Medic Program was the importance of staying operational; if a team's medic sprang into action carelessly and was taken out of commission, the rest of the squad would be in big trouble. Injuries that would only take a few minutes to heal, but which were crippling if left unattended, became a deadly concern. Sakura could heal a severed Achilles tendon in thirty-seven seconds, but only if she was alive to _operate_. If Sasuke wouldn't die without her immediate intervention—and all signs suggested he wouldn't—then her job was instead to get the final member of their squad patched up and functioning before assisting in the fight.

Pink hair fanning as she spun, Sakura looked back to Naruto. For all that having a knife lodged in one's shoulder must have hurt, he didn't seem very pained. If anything, she thought, he looked rather aggravated, tugging at the ringed pommel harshly, golden eyebrows drawn taught in a frown. She realized that he was trying rather unsuccessfully to yank the blade from his joint through brute force alone, apparently missing the fact that Kakashi-sensei's kunai all had a rather large barb on the edge, which seemed to have gotten stuck on his humerus.

She brought her hand down like a whip, forcing his own away with a quick slap to the back of the wrist.

"Hey!" he cried, shooting her a dirty look for her trouble.

She met it with a flat look and a no-nonsense clip in her voice. "Quiet," she said, lowering a hand glowing a faint lime-green atop the pierced flesh. Although visually similar, this jutsu was for diagnostics rather than healing. With the hooked kunai still buried in his joint, _that_ would be a bad idea. "Watch my back while I fix this, yeah? And try not to _move_ so much. You're squirming."

"I can do it myself—" he said, reaching once more for the blade's handle.

She slapped his hand again, harder, and hissed, "Didn't I just tell you to shut up?" It was dangerous to become distracted while applying first aid, especially when using chakra to do so. One of the drills they put you through in the Medic Program involved operating on a deer while the instructors did everything they could to break your concentration, from throwing water balloons at you to good-old-fashioned screaming in your face. Sakura could admit that more than a few of her 'patients' hadn't made it in her early days, if only because she'd built up such a tolerance by the end. 'Grace under pressure,' and all that crap. That didn't mean she didn't get annoyed…

Not giving him another opportunity to delay her, and with her diagnostics complete, Sakura wasted no more time in seizing the embedded kunai, slightly depressing it before rotating the tempered steel forty-five degrees clockwise and free of his bone. Not pausing, she then yanked it out, utilizing the entrance wound to keep additional damage to a minimum.

She could admit to being impressed by his pain tolerance. Meek as he'd acted before lunch, the boy hadn't so much as winced once so far. She respected his grit.

When he immediately made to stand up without allowing her to treat his now-heavily bleeding wound, her opinion soured. She did not respect _idiocy._

His hand made to press at the injury, and she slapped it a third time.

Or rather, she attempted as much. Her slap never made it, caught mid-flight by his own bloody hand.

'Impossible,' she thought automatically, not because he'd stopped her slap but because he'd used his right arm to do it—the same one which ought to be completely out of commission right now.

"Don't bother," he said, slowly releasing her from his hold. "I'm fine."

Confusion, concern, and anger all mixed in her breast. She held her now bloody fingers aggressively close to his face, rubbing them together. "Blood and guts are _my_ expertise, mister. You'll _know_ you're fine when I _tell_ _you_ you're fine."

He looked at her closely for a moment and then, and this really pissed her off, _smiled,_ right to her face, like she'd whispered something sweet into his ear and not just threatened him.

He must have seen the vein on her temple pulsing, because he added quickly, small smile still roosting on his lips, "Honestly, I'm _fine_. You can check it out later if you want, but for now just trust me. I heal real fast 'cause of the Kyuubi. Something this small's nothin'. Won't even leave a scar."

She digested what he said, scowl loosening a little, only for it to return in force when she saw the pair of lines etched onto the side of his head. "Bullshit. Then tell me how come—"

But he interrupted her again—she really didn't like being interrupted—and shook his head. "There's no time. _Look_."

He motioned with his chin towards the skirmish playing out behind her, past the remnants of her barrier jutsu.

She looked and didn't like what she saw. Sasuke was doing his best to avoid Kakashi, but the man was relentless, circling like a wolf, probing for weaknesses and then exploiting them with almost no time delay. If Sasuke just barely failed to hide a tendency to tense before throwing his shuriken, Kakashi was sure to pounce the next time he tried, seizing the miniscule gap and making him pay in blood. Her dark-haired teammate already had no less than six new wounds on him, three of them ignorable grazes on his arms, two more on his legs, and one deeper chip on his brow—a kind of wound she recognized as having come from a kunai's ring, probably thrown by Kakashi and imperfectly deflected by Sasuke. Whatever its cause, a second stream of blood had joined the first flowing from his broken nose, this time running right into his eye. She could see a glob of sealing agent on his thumb, but every time he tried to apply it and stem the bleeding, Kakashi would dash in, scoring another cut. He was in a bad way. With only half his field of vision and the injuries piling up, his options were limited. It was all he could do to keep their sensei at bay, but between muscular fatigue and his current rate of blood loss, Sakura estimated the amount of time he could keep this up for—it wasn't much.

'Hang in there, Sasuke. We're coming.'

She looked to Naruto again. He'd discarded his bloodied, black kimono, leaving him bare chested. Her eyes flashed across his physique—almost lithe, but more plain-Jane _thin_ really—and found his wound. Beneath the coat of blood painting the skin there, his shoulder looked immaculate, without so much as a patch of discolored skin to attest to Kakashi-sensei's stab wound.

'Amazing.'

She pushed it out of her head for now. A distracted medic was a _dead_ medic.

"Hey," she called.

His eyes glanced momentarily to her before sliding back to Sasuke and Kakashi. "You don't think this is for real, do you?" he asked. Sakura couldn't detect any fear coming from him, but rather a reluctant, almost queasy feeling.

_"Yes,"_ she answered, drawing his eye once again. She willed her own to reflect calm authority back but couldn't completely deny the fear gnawing at her. "This is very real, okay? So I need you to listen. You know Four-Beta-Nine, right?'

Big blue eyes blinked at her, mystified.

Sakura's own green pair stretched wide with incredulity. Furious, she stepped closer and demanded, " _Tell me_ you know basic Konoha strategy! You do, right?!"

His own helpless look fell, defensive anger taking its place. Nevertheless, he took a half-step back, shoulders sloping inwards. "I know about strategy!" he insisted. "Just not, like, by code-name or whatever."

Her hands balled into fists and shook at her sides.

_"Look,"_ he said, hands raised placatingly. "Just explain it to me real quick and we can—"

"There's no _time!_ " she cried, shaking her head in a moment of panic. A guttural, strangled sound leaked from her pale throat. She turned, placing her back to Naruto. "Just… just stay back and try not to draw attention. And be ready to do it on my mark," she said, racing off towards the fight.

"Do _what_ on your mark?" he called after her, voice thick with confusion.

"Fuckingkillhim!What else?"

* * *

**Training Ground Five**

* * *

Sasuke dove to the side like his life depended on it, catching his weight and launching himself back to his feet in a basic somersault. Going off the blandly sadistic look in his jonin opponent's eye, and the loud _rip_ his shirt made as it was further shredded, it seemed that may well be the case. _Any_ later in his evasion, and his innards would have painted the rocks and sand beneath his feet. As it was, Sasuke thought the many small puddles of blood scattered about were more than enough decoration already.

'It's all mine, too,' he thought. 'I haven't even _scratched_ him!' His mind raced. He tried to control his breathing and stem the worst of his bleeding and prepare for Kakashi's next attack and plan his own, and on and on, juggling an endless stream of tasks just to try and stay alive. He wasn't especially close to Sakura and didn't know 'Naruto' at all, but no matter how much he wished he didn't need their help, Sasuke knew the only chance they had of surviving—never mind _killing_ the grey-haired bastard—was to work together. He considered himself skilled, knew Sakura to be dependably competent, and had heard tale of 'Konoha's Kyuubi' more than once. Together, they stood a chance.

'Hopefully _.'_

Sasuke finally managed to stop the gash above his eye from bleeding, swiping a finger-full of thick medical jelly across the split skin during his previous evasion. He had another problem now, though. When he tried to blink his eye open, taking care to keep the prowling jonin in his sight, he found it impossible. The blood coating his eyelid had gone gummy and thick beneath the hot, dusty sun, gluing the skin shut. He'd need to manually separate the lids or find some water if he wanted to see properly again but knew by now that Kakashi wouldn't allow him the chance. Sasuke could only guess at how Kakashi managed to fight like this. The wonky depth perception and narrowed field of vision were certainly causing _him_ plenty of issues.

Instincts honed by endless training told him to create a distraction, but he ignored them. Kakashi, Sasuke was sure mostly to _mock_ him, turned every attack he launched back on him. Using the dust cloud to obscure his water jutsu, forcing him to negate the explosive tags on his own kunai, and the one time he'd tried to push the fight in close, using Sasuke's forward momentum as a force multiplier for his own punches and kicks. The man was maybe the worst kind of opponent for him: a fast, world-class counter-attacker; the kind of guy who took the adage 'the best defense is a good offense' to its upper limits. Sasuke was naturally inclined towards aggression, but against someone like this, he was forced to fight passively and wait for backup.

While his field of vision was narrowed, the perks of an active, fully-matured Sharingan were none the lesser for only using one eye, so, when the cloth leg of Kakashi's jonin garb rustled, a tell-tale sign of his impending charge, Sasuke didn't miss it. Neither did he miss the brief flash of chakra rushing through the ground towards the tall man, pooling beneath and just before him, before lancing out as a stone pike, racing up to impale Kakashi in one sudden thrust.

'Finally,' he thought, relief washing through him like clean spring water. He didn't waste the opening Sakura had provided, for while Kakashi wasn't harmed by her attack, he was forced to dodge. In one smooth motion, Sasuke kicked back off the ground hard, creating space and prying his eye open with his fingers, ignoring the pain as lashes were torn free and stinging, salty sweat-infused blood met his sensitive eyeball.

For as much as it felt like he'd been fighting Kakashi for an hour already, he knew from the sun overhead that mere minutes had ticked by. The wound on his forearm hurt so bad he thought he'd be sick, he had at least one or two cuts on each and every limb, and his nose still hurt like a _bitch_ , leaking blood and runny clear snot down his chin; but for all that, a well of hot chakra still remained in his coils, rushing and rushing and _rushing_ through his system, eager to be used. White-hot fire still roared in his chest. His heart beat to the unheard drum of battle, and despite the fury in his blood, Sasuke could feel excitement infecting his bones.

'This is it,' he thought. 'The temper of battle. The forge's fire.'

"It's me," Sakura very wisely said, quickly stepping beside him and seizing his more injured arm unceremoniously. In the instant before she did so, the thought occurred to him to have her heal his nose first so he could breathe easier. When the pain of her holding his sliced and charred forearm almost sent him to his ass, he held his words and did his best not to scream instead. The numbing aspect of her healing jutsu kicked in enough for him to think, and he felt grateful. If she had left his arm untreated and he'd been forced to block with it, he may very well have lost consciousness from the pain. As it was, it felt like hot coals where she held him, although even now the pain was lessening.

'She's really a fine medic,' he thought warmly, a wave of endorphins washing across his brain. It was a pain response, he knew, but still…

Fingers snapped in his face. His noble features screwed up in annoyance, but focus returned as well. 'Blood loss,' he realized, having prior experience with the symptoms. Snapping out of it, he looked at Sakura. As soon as she saw she had his attention, her own gaze moved, shifting from him to their maniac sensei's slowly approaching form. She reached into her medic apron without looking away and produced from it a pair of brown pills. They looked like dog food pellets and smelled like moldy bread, but Sasuke recognized them as blood pills, capable of stimulating red blood cell regeneration. He plucked them from her palm which immediately found and began healing his nose.

"One for now," she said, eyes flickering his way for an instant before returning. Kakashi was getting closer, but still exercising caution. "One for later. The lacerations on your arms and legs'll keep bleeding. I don't have time to treat them. Eat the second one as soon as you start to feel woozy or in five minutes, whichever comes first. Got it?"

He waited for her to release his nose, distantly embarrassed by the blood and snot he saw on her hand, before throwing one of the pills back, ignoring the putrid flavor. "Got it."

"Good," she said, and for the first time he picked up on the fear hiding beneath her professional persona. Determination swelled in his breast, although he was uncertain why. There wasn't time to dwell on it. Kakashi was almost close enough that he'd be pressed to avoid an attack should he choose to dash in. Sakura seemed to understand, for she quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth—'So he can't read her lips,' he thought—and whispered her plan. "I'm thinking Five-Sigma-Five, use Naruto for the execution maneuver."

Sasuke considered it for an instant, then hid his own lips. "Why not Four-Beta-Nine?" he asked. "It'd be better if we all—"

But she cut him off, huffing with unexpected aggravation. "Because 'Konoha's Kyuubi' doesn't know Konoha's _playbook_ , that's why. We can't fight Kakashi just by ourselves but _winging it_ with a complete stranger is only gonna get us _murdered._ We're doing Five-Sigma-Five, got it?"

Her anger must have been infectious, because the warm feelings that'd been bubbling up inside him abruptly disappeared, a light sneer working at his bloodstained lips now. _"Fine_ ," he said. "I'll take point. On my mark."

Sakura gave a quick nod, pretty features pinched. Her hand lowered from her mouth to rest by her waist, nice and close to her other one for rapid sealing.

Sasuke nodded back, his bloody face set in determination. He still hurt plenty and their strategy likely wouldn't be enough to topple the infamous jonin, but there was nothing left to do now but fight. Five-Sigma-Five was a risky baiting maneuver—best utilized with three to five shinobi—and involved luring a superior opponent in by creating a false opening. While one engaged the target directly, the other would support from a distance. The support would use techniques meant to create openings but would (on the other's signal) pretend to misaim, seeming to throw their own teammate off balance. Supposing the target fell for the trap and tried to capitalize on the moment of perceived blunder, the first shinobi, prepared for the moment, would immobilize the target. It was during this instant of distraction and vulnerability on the target's end that the final shinobi—Naruto, in this case—would strike, delivering a precise killing blow unseen from behind.

It was high-risk, high-reward, but the best option they had at the moment. Sasuke called go and bolted. He just hoped the last member of their team didn't fuck it up.

* * *

**Training Ground Five**

* * *

Naruto watched hidden behind a low boulder as his new teammates engaged Kakashi. Dissatisfaction radiated off of his concealed form. A scowl marred his lips.

_Just stay back and try not to draw attention!_

The sun beat on his exposed neck and back. The heat wasn't helping his temper.

**'Join the fray, then,'** Kurama suggested, **'If** **her strategy displeases you so.'**

He wanted to, but… Uncertainty held him. Not only did he have doubts about leaving them to face Kakashi on their own, he also felt black, squirmy reluctance plaguing him whenever he thought about his assigned role.

_Fucking kill him, what else?_

How could she say that? Kill an ally?

**'Is he?'**

'He is,' Naruto thought, and if his answer was anemic even within the confines of his own mind, so what? Kakashi was a Konoha jonin, their assigned sensei and comrade, and no matter how much pain he'd inflicted on Sasuke, Naruto could tell he'd passed up several opportunities to kill him. Maybe the others had missed it based on a lack of real-world combat experience—a department Naruto admittedly only had a slight edge in—but all the same, he was certain Kakashi could have killed Sasuke already if he'd really wanted to.

**'Your observation is correct, but your conclusions are flawed.'**

Naruto's fists balled. Kurama was right, of course. Kakashi not killing Sasuke could also be explained by the man simply being a sadist. Was Kakashi really that kind of person? The kind that yearned for violence, that reveled in watching things suffer? Naruto couldn't abide by it, if so. Non-existent though his appetite may be for bloodshed in general, he was at least able to convince himself of its necessity in extreme situations. Reveling in the protracted death and destruction of others, though, was another matter entirely. He didn't want to believe Kakashi was like that.

**'If you are right…'**

'Then he isn't really tryin' to kill us, and we shouldn't try to kill him either!'

**'But if you are wrong?'**

Naruto's face screwed up, teeth gritting, eyes clenching shut in rejection.

A growl, lumbering, unhurried, full of malcontent, filled his soul. It was a sound that said _You're pissing me off._

**'You shame yourself with this dishonesty** _**boy** _ **. Do you mean to shame me as well?'**

Naruto's eyes creaked open. He felt sick, like he'd drank a drum of oil and poisoned himself. He watched Sasuke try to insert his blade between the fourth and fifth ribs of Kakashi's chest only to barely escape a fist that would have crushed his windpipe via hasty back-step and a well-placed earth jutsu on Sakura's part.

'If he hadn't dodged,' Naruto thought, heart pounding, 'would he be dead right now?'

He remembered hearing once that it wasn't uncommon for children with violent and disturbed upbringings to become reflections of those circumstances, growing cruel and hateful as a result of so much trauma. He must have gone further 'round the bend than that, because the only things he felt when hurting others were sickness and _pain_.

There was one exception to this… but he refused to think about those times. There was a reason he worked so hard to master Kurama's potent youkai, despite being fundamentally averse to using it.

**'Acknowledge it, boy. If this man aims to claim your life, and the lives of your new teammates, what must you do?'**

'I could restrain him,' Naruto insisted weakly. 'Try to take him out without killing him _…'_

There was a moment of quiet within him, and even as he watched Sasuke's feinted kick fail, resulting in another long graze across his chest, Naruto knew what his partner was going to say. Black wretchedness filled him, freezing the blood in his veins even as unbridled moisture collected in the corners of his eyes.

**'You would let your despicable half-measured nature claim** **lives** _**again** _ **?'**

The moisture coalesced and flowed down his frozen face. Sudden tightness afflicted his throat. Naruto felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. He couldn't find his breath. The weight of Kurama's unapologetic disgust weighed heavily on his insides. Things were happening so _fast._ And of course, for no woes traveled alone, it was at that instant that he heard it—Sakura's throat-tearing scream, calling for him to attack, to _kill_ their sensei—to reach out, and snuff the light from him.

Naruto's head shot to the sky in a silent scream, and all the skin on his body burned away. It was a frozen moment of pure, unspeakable agony. The floodgates opened. Dark red blood poisoned near-black with mindlessly raging youkai enveloped him. Around him formed his cloak—a thick lacquering of primal miasma dredged from the blackest pits—transforming him from a boy to a devil. Super-heated chakra leaked from his mouth like steam and colored his eyes a mindless uniform white. Four tails lolled aimlessly behind him like haunting spirits. His ears were bestial like those of his demonic partner, but the rasping growl that leaked from his inhuman teeth bore little in common with Kurama's bassy tenor. His form was monstrous, his existence, hellish with pain. He bore it in silence.

All these changes ravaged through him in an instant, and for all that he resembled a mindless beast, he retained his full mental faculties. This is to say that, in the time between Sakura's cry for help and his explosion forward, less than one full second passed. With a speed that sent the loose rocks and sand beneath him shooting into the air, a fully transformed, four-tailed Naruto appeared in position. Before him was Kakashi-sensei's vulnerable back, and though the man had managed to turn his neck enough to see him, he was unable to move away—one arm pinned by Sasuke's elbow hold, the other, held in place by the teen's hand, whose grip was steel despite the kunai impaling his palm. He'd eaten the attack to provide Naruto this opening, this chance to kill the man who would otherwise be the end of them. Sakura was off several meters to the side, eyes wide and desperate and focused on him despite the obvious chakra exhaustion afflicting her. He wouldn't waste the opportunity these two had sacrificed so much to provide, even if it meant...

He twisted, pulling back at the shoulder and elbow, keeping his wrist and all the joints in his fingers perfectly straight. In this state he'd be able to gouge a hole so cleanly through Kakashi it'd be as though the man wasn't there at all. He aimed for the heart. Bare, youkai-infused musculature strained as every fiber in his body contributed what it had to his attack. The look in his eye was wild as his life-ending fingers plunged forward, a howling, screeching scream exploding out of his lungs. His fingertips were five inches away from Kakashi's back, then four, then three, then two…

Then the look in Kakashi's eye changed, shock dulling to acceptance and even _pride_. He didn't make a sound, but in the instant before Naruto's plunging hand took his life, the man seemed to be saying, "Good job."

Naruto's spearing hand came to an impossible stop, devilish fingers a mere hair's breadth away from ending Kakashi's life. Stillness fell across the rocky plateau, and all of Team Seven looked on in varying states of shock and horror. Not even Naruto understood what was going on. He hadn't consciously decided to stop at all.

'Move!' he cried, 'Move! Move!' It was like liquid lead had been injected into his veins and arteries and _bones_ , and had suddenly cooled at the last possible instant, stopping him dead in his tracks. Eyes flat white with the most primal energy strained wide and horrified, even as the rest of him began to shake, overcome with conflict. He had to. He had to. He _had to_.

_I have to. I have to. I have to I have to! Have to! Have to have to have to kill him! I have to kill him! I HAVE TO KILL HIM NOW!_

But for all that Kurama and sense and his own fear screamed it at him, for all that Naruto absolutely _had to kill this man_ , he just… couldn't. What if he was wrong? There had to be another way—he just needed one minute of peace and quiet to find it—he was sure! There was some way out of this—some way he could stop Kakashi and protect Sakura and Sasuke all at once. He just needed a moment to find it. Just a moment. Just _one minute!_

It proved his downfall. Time had seemed to slow for Kakashi as Naruto's fingers approached, and stand still entirely when instead of running him through, they stopped. The sensation wore off though as Naruto's instant of hesitation grew long. In the following second, Kakashi's gaze turned narrow and hard.

Kakashi shifted in front of him, and before he knew it there was a meaty thunk followed by the sound of unsteady feet and a thud.

Eyes widening, Naruto looked to the ground past Kakashi's feet and found Sasuke lying in the dirt, an ugly welt swelling high on his jaw. Naruto didn't know how the jonin managed to get free and lash out so quickly, but by the time his brain processed the information before him—taking in Sasuke's lolling, half-conscious stare, Kakashi's ruthless gaze, and the gigantic hole he'd put in his own guard—it was too late.

_"Gogyo Fuin!"_

Purple fire blazed on all five of the fingers that struck his belly. The physical element of the attack didn't faze him, but all the same there was a _twisting,_ like something deep inside Naruto had been perverted and damaged, making his whole world feel _wrong._ Confusion filled him, only growing stronger and spiking out of control as the youkai coating him bled away, dispersing into the air in a hiss of steam. He distantly heard Kakashi dart off, and Sakura scream a moment later, but he could barely hear her over the rising tide of pain. As bad as it hurt inside the cloak, without it, he was left bare to the world, raw nerve endings firing lunatic signals up his spine as unprotected _meat_ met the air.

Kurama wasn't healing him. _Why wasn't Kurama healing him?_

He found himself falling, unable to control his body on top of everything else. He didn't have any more insane panic or pain or fear to spare. When he landed and the coarse sand of the plateau ground into him, like salt and pepper into a raw steak, it was all he could do to stay conscious. Only one thought managed to pierce through his overwhelmed mind as he lay there, stunned by his own failure.

_My fault. My fault—my fault—myfault—myfault! MY FAULT—this—this is all my fault!_

Pure unadulterated desperation seized him in its grasp. He couldn't let people die because of his weakness. Not again. He couldn't lose _another_ team.

' _Please, not again!'_

His head seemed to weigh a million pounds, but somehow, Naruto—bloody, shivering slice of meat that he was—managed to turn just enough to see the rest of Team Seven. He watched through unfocused eyes as Sasuke, legs only half obeying his commands, stood over Sakura's downed form, fire coating his hands from the wrists up as he tapped into reserves that didn't exist, doing everything in his power to ward off the inhuman killer that was Kakashi. Naruto saw blood drip from the kunai in Kakashi's grasp. His eyes slid naturally down the red dribble path connecting it to Sakura's prone form.

He cried desperately into his soul for help. The silence that met him was devastating. Kurama either couldn't answer or didn't know what to say. Stinging tears flowed freely from his eyes to mix with the blood and dust he lay on. The pain was out of this world, and his heart felt like it would explode at any second, beating like a hummingbird's wings through the agony and despair. He tried with all of his might to rise, but barely managed to move his arm. More tears flowed at this development, and a terrible idea came to him. It went against the _core_ of his being, but, laying there in a puddle of his own blood and tears, watching Sasuke and Sakura struggle for survival, he vowed to do whatever it took to save them—to keep them safe—to protect them from all who would seek to murder his second chance. He didn't know whether it was guilt or hate or desperation that fueled his promise, but with the strength and clarity of this new, singular pledge, this isolated _purpose_ , he found within him one little, hidden stash of strength _._ He used it to force his fingertips into his belly, seizing the fuinjutsu there like a physical thing _._ It was an ancient cog in his hand, the key to a machine of inhuman construction. Blood and spit and an insane cry of rage spilled from his throat, and with the very essence and fiber of his being, he _twisted…_

And the ancient cog **turned.**

* * *

**Training Ground Five**

* * *

Sakura watched through swimming vision as Sasuke, wreathed in fire, was finally cut down. Her ears rang a dull tone. With every breath she caused a small puff of dust to kick up, her cheek pressed to the rough ground. Strain and struggle as she may, her arms and legs refused to obey her commands. Kakashi had stuck yet another of his hooked kunai in her belly, and while the blade _somehow_ missed her organs, the jolt of electricity he channeled through it left her incapacitated. The pain was unmanageable. She could shake and she could breathe and she could cry, but that was it. She was paralyzed.

_'Sasuke!'_ she cried in her head, unable to accept what her eyes were seeing. They had never been friends, but all the same she'd known him since she was a little girl. They'd studied and drilled together countless times before, and now… Now, he was flat on his back, hanging onto consciousness by a thread, choking desperately for air. He was pinned to the ground by his throat, a two-headed spear made of stone locking him down with one prong on either side of his neck. She couldn't see to tell if his throat had been slit but hoped the dryness of his rasping breaths meant not. The flaming gauntlets he'd summoned at the end were gone, taking with them the bulk of his tattered shirt, leaving only his vest behind.

His bared skin reminded Sakura of her other teammate. It had been almost indescribable, seeing him switch from a shy, moody boy, into that… that _thing._ The sight of it inspired in her equal parts horror and awe. The power coming from him had been stifling, hot and angry and potent, but not mindlessly raging—not hopelessly lost. She could admit to losing her breath when he seemed to simply _appear_ in position, terrible maw rumbling, endless eyes _seeing_. Through all the fear that seized her, Sakura had felt hope riding beneath it. Here was _real_ _power_ , she'd thought. Enough to make things _happen_.

But… in the end, he'd still been human underneath all that alien strength. Just a boy. Oily shame squirmed in her guts as she considered how much more convenientit would be, if only he'd been stripped of his humanity. If only he'd been formed into a proper weapon. With that on her team…

_You all want the same thing._

The self-disgust rising inside her went a long way towards Sakura forgiving the blonde his hesitance. When she managed to find him, a rock's throw away, all the skin on his body missing… nauseating, nightmarish horror took its place. He was shaking uncontrollably, and her medical expertise allowed her to imagine all the ways in which he must be suffering in that moment, all the unbearable agony that must be ravaging him. Dark spots were floating around in her eyes, but despite this and the fact that he was a fair distance away, Sakura thought he may have been looking back at her…

'I'm sorry. I can't save you. I can't save any of us. Mommy… Daddy… I'm so sorry…'

Sakura's eyes fluttered. A weak chill slowly fanned outward from her core. With it, lethargy came. Thoughts of her mother and father filled her head as her consciousness began to wane.

'Forgive me, mommy, daddy. I failed.'

Her eyes slid slowly closed. There was a lone moment of quiet, and she knew herself to be on the precipice of darkness, but then…

Something changed. There was a terrible sound, like ripping and tearing meat, and then, with no build-up whatsoever, Sakura was at the bottom of the sea. It made no sense but was the only thing which could explain the sudden, elephantine weight bearing down upon her—not just her body, but her mindand _soul_ too. The thick rotten stench of hatred clogged her pores, like the air had suddenly condensed to liquid. The ground beneath her cheek seemed to hum _._ A ringing pressed against her ears, high and long like an endless dog-whistle.

With a herculean effort, she managed to creak one bloodshot eye open.

What awaited her peeking gaze was _eternal_. That was how her human brain interpreted it. Where before with his four swishing tails Naruto had seemed to bridge the realm between human and devil, the thing that loomed there now, sat hunched above a puddle of its own blood, was _pure._

Pure _evil_ , she thought, half delirious, but that wasn't quite right. It felt… olderthan such things. That was the impression it gave, like its genesis lay in the eons before such concepts as good and evil originated.

Unbridled, images came to her head of creatures prowling their planet so long before her species came along, it wasn't even _funny._ Five tails of that red-black plasma floated ethereally behind it. More than an additional tail, his whole _form_ was changed: a skull she recognized as belonging to a fox enclosed his head, worn like a helmet, but for the eyes.

The eyes, she thought, were the worst part—far worse than the pale skeleton of bones adorning him like armor, fused to his flesh by exposed, cord-like tendons and sinew. Worse even than the sound, reverberating from its _pit_ at a frequency which broadcast an ancient wrongness. This was a thing better left buried in the earth or floating amongst the stars—it was hubris of man to try and tame such power. This much Sakura could tell from its presence alone. No, worse than all that, Naruto's once flat-white eyes, filled with power and anger but human thought too, had been replaced by flesh. Within the sockets of that skull helmet they watched, with irises of the deepest blood red, and monstrous double-pupils that staredright into her soul _._

_'_ Oh _God!'_ she thought, trying once again to scramble to her feet, but just as paralyzed now as a minute ago. _'_ Oh _,_ dear _God…'_

Terror was like a fist in her hair, working with Kakashi's jutsu to keep her pinned in place. She didn't want to hear, but she heard. She didn't want to feel, but she felt.

She didn't want to watch, but the devil and its unnatural eyes _made_ her watch, all the same. And then…

And then it was gone, a fuzzy trick of the light making it appear to fizzle into nothingness—but only _appear_. Sakura knew better. She was a damn smart girl, and even if her eyes couldn't follow the creature's movements, she knew it to be moving all the same. When it appeared an instant later—or perhaps, an instant before, her mind not keeping up—it did so above Sasuke, blocking the path between him and Kakashi. She'd forgotten about him, about them _both_ , but now reminded, felt her dread grow.

_Oh no…_

The creature made a new sound, like a yowl but upside down, that hurt both her ears and the back of her brain. Some drool escaped her frozen lips to pool on the ground, but she hardly noticed. Hell, Kakashi's arm turned into _lightning_ , and she barely spared _that_ a glance. All her focus, all her _world_ , was zeroed in on a singular point. The creature had grabbed Kakashi's stony lance and was looking down at Sasuke now, alien eyes unmoving even as it growled and yipped more impossible sounds. Sasuke himself had gone deathly still, and Sakura could just make out from here the red and black of his Sharingan staring up in abject terror at the entity looming overhead. Tears flowed from her eyes like sake from a bottle. She knew what would happen next. With a single push, it would sever Sasuke's head…

'Oh God, oh my God!'

_—_ and begin its killing spree. Kakashi would be next, and then, it'd be her turn…

A single, mutant eyeball swiveled in its socket, finding her as though she'd spoken aloud. Her heart stopped. Her blood froze. Her nipples pebbled in fear, and her eyes, oh, her traitorous eyes! They looked on and on and on, staring into the depths of damnation, seeing so much more than they should. The paralysis was weakening, little by little, and she found herself able to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth.

Her pale neck bobbed with the effort...

And triggered something.

The abomination _moved_. There was no in-between; no transition. One moment, the spear was pinning Sasuke flat against the ground, and the next, it was swinging at Kakashi, a thousand miles an hour. The dark-haired Uchiha lay forgotten on the ground, none the worse for wear.

Kakashi dodged by the skin of his teeth, the air around him booming as the lance tore a vacuum in the atmosphere and air rushed back in to fill it. Naruto, or perhaps the Kyuubi no Kitsune, over-extended harshly in its swing, and presented a large hole in its guard that Kakashi and his lightning-encrusted arm seized upon.

This seemed the truth to Sakura, but when the tailed thing just continued to spin, waist cracking and twisting in the most gut-wrenching collection of snaps and pops and crunches she'd ever heard, she had to reevaluate her way of thinking. It completed its impossible, spine-crushing spin, and thrust the double prongs forward, intent on goring the grey-haired man through the face and neck.

A backwards rumble warbled deep in its throat as it moved, turning to a growl just barely within her ability to hear when, rather than punch twin holes through the man, its lance was obliterated, no match for Kakashi's arm and the lightning jutsu it wielded. The jonin continued his attack, driving up the shaft of the spear and shattering it to pieces. It reached Naruto's hand without slowing and split it in two, driving up between the fingers and on into his forearm, parting the limb like a wedge.

Sakura felt acidic bile bubbling in the bottom of her throat, but was unable to look away, despite the slackening grip of her paralysis. The image of a burst sausage came unwanted to her mind as venerable _torrents_ of blood rushed from the wound, splashing against the ground loud enough for her to hear.

It was horrific, but not quite so horrific as what she saw next as the two split segments of arm _morphed_ , each twisting upon itself with a sound like rubbing latex, bundles of muscle fibers bulging and squirming, fingers stretching and contorting with loud snaps, radius and ulna bones developing new unnatural joints, allowing the mutant limb, tipped no longer in fingers but instead in _teeth_ , to bite down on Kakashi's arm, digging wounds that wept syrupy blood into his bicep and triceps.

Kakashi grunted in pain.

Naruto _tittered_ , alien eyes dancing in delight.

Sakura gasped, and one of the eyes swiveled wetly to look at her, the other still trained on Kakashi.

In the deepest parts of her being, something screamed at her to get away—to run and hide and do everything in her power to _forget_ , or baring that possibility, to simply kill herself. Better, this primal wisdom spoke in the recesses of her brain, than the _alternative._

This response scared her. Hell, _everything about this_ scared her, but within the roiling sea of fear and horror and confusion churning inside her, something steadier weathered the storm, bobbing along, waiting for her to find it. It wasn't bravery or anything else so noble, but neither was it madness. Sakura imagined its name to be 'surrender'.

Her paralysis was weakened enough now for her to move. Shaky, jerky, unsteady, she rose to her feet all the same. Her muscles spasmed at random. Hunched over, she held her stab wound tightly, healing it just enough to keep her innards from becoming _outtards_ , mindful of her depleted reserves and the tasks ahead. Her bangs were sopping with sweat and speckled with blood. They hung in tresses, framing eyes that stared straight back at the beast. Looking deep into those unnatural double-pupils, she searched for a hint of that quiet, moody boy who'd shown up out of the blue. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or her overtaxed mind hallucinating, but just _there_ , hiding in the back…

She swallowed again, offered up what few prayers she could remember, and stepped forward, breaking eye-contact with Naruto to rush to Sasuke's aid. A part of her expected to be torn asunder the moment she moved, but as her feet beat down on the sandy pebbles again and again, and her life was not taken, Sakura was reminded of Naruto's pledge to them.

_I won't hurt you guys._

Of course, he'd said he could control it, too, and nothing in this world was so obvious as the fact that, right now, Naruto was farfrom 'in control.' Still, hadn't he become like this for them? Wasn't it the case that, after transforming, the first thing he did was rescue Sasuke? The air was thick with ungodly power and alien emotion, the combination of which had the most primal workings of her brain going crazy, but… in her heart, Sakura wanted to believe. That she would live. That they would succeed. That he would protect them. If she was wrong, they were dead anyway. Mind and heart in alignment, she put her trust in him and fell to her knees over Sasuke.

He was delirious, the blood-loss and chakra expenditure and head-trauma too much to properly function through. She snapped her fingers and slapped lightly at his cheeks, but he barely spared her a drunken, hazy glance, regular dark eyes trained feverishly on the sight across them. She didn't look. She was not trained for sustained ninjutsu combat, and her reserves were all but gone now. She had just enough left in the tank to stabilize Sasuke. After that, they'd _both_ be helpless. Running away and just saving herself crossed her mind, but she dismissed it. Her place was here.

Otherworldly sounds and the chirping of a thousand birds broke out beyond her. She didn't look up. There was no point. She placed her trust in Naruto and did her job.

* * *

**Konoha Training Ground Five**

* * *

Naruto shivered as more pain lanced up his arm. The human before him had used lightning to hurt him again, taking one of his newly-formed appendages clean off. The remaining mutated half-arm dangled nightmarishly.

His loins stirred. Muscles stretched _so good_. Blood howled. The pain was _exquisite._

**Focus. Focus. Focus.**

But his things were okay—just there, off to the side, one taking care of the other. The stench of death was absent from them. That was enough, wasn't it? Now he could—

**No. No. Focus. Focus. Protect.**

This one was the threat? This one, then? Wanting to take his things? If he was killed, they'd be safe? Just that much?

**Yes. Yes. Kill. Kill. Kill.**

Sure. That was easy days, right there. Kill, kill, kill. He could get behind that! Kill, kill, kill. This one, then?

**Watch out!**

"Fuin!"

A hand emblazed with negative light made to slam into his stomach. A bloody fissure split him open at the navel, crunching and squelching out of the way.

The human's eye stretched wide. His hand passed clean through.

Naruto _giggled_ , and then the hole in his core sealed, locking the man in place inside him. He looked so confused. Naruto's eyes lolled in his skull. Sped-up yipping spilled from his throat. Twisted horns grew from his forehead. His half arm melted and reformed its proper shape. The sand drank his drippings with lively thirst.

_Blood and guts are MY domain._

One of his things had said that. For real! Kehehe! It was _hilarious_.

**Focus. Kill.**

_Fine_.

Naruto broke his jaw open 180 degrees, cracks and snaps sounding out like crushed celery. His cheeks tore in a gory smile. His tongue hung low, down past his neck. There seemed to be too many teeth growing in his mouth, all long and wicked and uneven, like the amassed bones of an animal graveyard. Inside that ring of fangled white lay death given shape and weight. A marble of obsidian, or rather, the primordial soup of life, condensed down into a superdense orb, unfiltered energy beyond chakra, beyond youkai… beyond even space or time. It didn't quite lay in his throat, instead seeming to hover with a dull hum. A flash of silent light queued destabilization. Double-pupils stared. The whole thing _went_.

Relative silence in the clearing was replaced in an instant by a deafening roar. The energy that flew forth from Naruto's gullet was irrational, ten-times his height in diameter, miles long, it was a beam that flash-fried everything in its path. Stone and water and everything else disintegrated in a long tube. Trees just outside its path were set ablaze and uprooted. A section of Konoha's border wall collapsed in the distance. Kakashi simply _ceased to be_ , but not quite as Naruto had been expecting. The queer _poofing_ that marked his death was wholly unsatisfying.

Say again, say again, it was _wholly unsatisfying._

The jubilation in his bones soured. A snarl set his chest vibrating. Senses stretched out like lazy summer foxes, but he couldn't seem to find—

**There. There. There. Not dead. Protect. Kill. Protect. Kill.**

Out from a tree line some hundred meters away, he reappeared.

**No. No.** **Appeared. Appeared.**

Yes. No. As he said. As _he_ said. The man did not _re_ -anything _._ He appeared for the first time only. A fake. All along. A _fake._

**Real one. Not fake. More danger. PROTECT. KILL. PROTECT. KILL.**

The man shunshined from his plateau to theirs.

"That's enough, Naruto. This drill is—"

Ten orbs grew like tumors in his gullet. He braced for impact. Like this, he was sure to get him—

**no no No No NO NO** _**NO!** _

Why not?

He looked.

Ah! He saw. Oops! Just there, his things were in the way. Just there. Watching now. Too tired to move. Too hurt. Too close, too. Needed to be behind or would be **killed**. His mouth slammed closed with a crunch that broke teeth. Steam leaked from their holes. He swallowed the shattered bits.

**To them.**

Yes. To them. He began to move on all fours, bounding at top speed. They would be safe in his shadow. Then, he could **kill** _ **.**_ Then, he could **protect.**

Fear—absent even when he first showed the power on his tongue—flashed in Kakashi's eye. He lifted a headband and revealed red beneath it. "Stop him!" he shouted and rushed forward.

**Will** **hurt them. Will. Don't let.** _ **Don't let.**_

Naruto understood. He would not allow it. Chakra-rich wood shot up from the ground in square chutes like fingers grabbing at him. Muscles bulged and multiplied and ripped free.

**More** **humans!** **More! Protect! Kill all—Kill all!**

He understood that, too. Now he could sense many more. Many, many. Just _there_ , and _there_ as well. How had he missed them? Were they hidden? Waiting for this? Come to kill his things? Come to kill _him?_

He would not allow that either. He was closing quickly on them. Then. Then, he could kill.

Stone walls sprung up in his way, but he ran right through them. Thrown steel pierced his flesh to no avail. The wood was worse, sticking to him whenever he touched it, but he wouldn't let it stop him. **Protect**. He would. Reach them, then kill, the man, the others. All and more. They would not come to harm, his things.

They would _not_.

**Closer than them. Get there first. Protect. Kill.**

Wood wrapped around his feet, and a human—fast! faster than the others—dressed all in green, appeared before him. His hair was black and his skin was dark red. Thick eyebrows angled down in a harsh frown.

"Naruto-kun, stop this! This unyouthful test has ended—"

Naruto lashed out, arm exploding in size and speed till it was like an avalanche of flesh and bone and energy, crashing into a cross-guard that _held_.

**Stopped. Can't stop**. **Kill.**

A hole opened in his elbow, then twenty more, and from them an explosion of youkai shot out backwards like an afterburner. His arm rocketed forward like a jet and the human's defense faltered. His forearms crunched and he was sent flying away. The wood was up past his waist now. He ripped and tore himself from it and then, with nothing left to stop him, jumped the rest of the way to his things.

They were in a small pile, half-unconscious, which made standing over them easy. His shadow painted them. The sight of it spawned great pleasure and warmth in him. Self-assured, he looked up.

**PROTECT.**

He would.

"That's enough, Naruto," the mixed-eyed man was saying, closest to him of all the humans now emerging from the tree line. Five, ten, fifteen in total. "Leave Sakura and Sasuke alone—I'm the one you want, right?"

Didn't make sense. Thought _he_ would…?

**Trick. Trick.** _**TRICK.** _

Ah, had to be. Sly human. His jaw opened back up, but not so much that he couldn't still see them, instead this time bisecting at the chin, separating open like a snake's. White bone peeked out of the waterfalling blood. Some drippled down onto his things. The stench of their fear grew thicker in his nostrils. Central to his open mouth was that cluster of orbs, like black bubbles clumped together in the top of his throat. Like this, he would kill them for sure.

**Protect.**

Of course.

"Tenzou! Get him now!" one of the humans said, this one female with peculiar purple hair and lots of teased flesh.

"I can't, the others are in the way."

"Goddamn it, Tenzou, forget about them—grab him!"

"Shut up! Nobody do _anything_. If you hurt them, I'll kill you myself."

That was the mixed-eyed man. His words continued to confuse him. Naruto kept charging the orbs anyway.

"Naruto, listen to me!" His hands were up, palms exposed.

Closest to them, he was still a stone's throw away. When he made to take a lone step closer, the black orbs pulsed, and Naruto growled, low and clear, the unnatural gargling freezing him mid-stride.

The mixed-eyed man nodded and stayed where he was. "Listen. This was all just training, okay? I had to trick you guys into thinking I was going to kill you—get you familiar with the feeling—at least enough that I could count on you not to freeze out on the frontlines. Everyone here was hidden all along: a full team of medics; others to make sure things went okay. Look at Sakura. Look at Sasuke. They're drained, and cut, and bruised, but _alive_. You're smart enough to know what that means. I understand why this happened. What you're doing. You're trying to protect them, right?"

**Dirty trick! Dirty trick! Kill now! KILL!**

He was right. Tricky. This one was tricky. Would do anything to kill his things. Wouldn't let him, though. Couldn't hurt them if he was _dead_.

The black orbs quivered.

A hand grabbed his ankle. It sizzled and burned but didn't let go.

**What?**

What? His neck snapped and rotated so as to allow him the ability to see beneath him while still keeping the enemy in his line of fire. One of his things was touching him. Very bad. Too weak. _Fragile_. Ought to not be touching him, but how to tell it with so much death on the tongue? It looked up at him through watery green eyes.

"Naruto," it said, voice creaking and cracking.

Poor, poor thing. He would protect. Kill these ones, then get them away. Safe and sound.

He started to look back at the humans.

" _Hey,"_ it called, fingers tightening further around his ankle.

He looked back and managed a warble, shaking the limb. It needed to let go. Very bad to be touching him.

"Listen you great idiot—didn't you hear what they said?"

**Lies Lies Lies**

"It's enough. You've… you've already done enough, Naruto. You did it. We're safe."

Really? He didn't think so. Mutant eyes flickered towards the amassed enemy.

She managed a weak laugh and finally let go of his leg. Her palm was blackened and bleeding. His guts twisted.

"You're suddenly very thorough," she said, a hacking cough seizing her for several long seconds thereafter. When she could speak again, her lips had bright red flecks painting them. "I was just getting used to your half-assed nature."

He shifted his weight around. The humans across them remained silent and still, and only because of this was he not already mid-slaughter. His thing seemed determined to be heard. If they could wait to die, then he could wait to kill.

"It's dumb, right? Me telling you to kill him even though I could see how against it you were. And now, me telling you to stop, after you've gone and done this to yourself, trying to keep us safe." She looked up at him with a tired, pained smile, cradling her hand to her midsection, dirt smudged all over her face. He stared and stared. "Girls can be like that, you know? Indecisive and stuff. Sorry."

Conflict waged inside him. His other thing was silent, eyes still not very steady, watching him as well. The orbs in his gullet were long charged and ready to fire. He held off.

She looked up at him through a gap in her dirty hair, eye bloodshot and ringed. With a sigh that seemed to sap her remaining strength, her eye eased shut. "I don't know what else to say. Please, Naruto. Don't do it."

Unnatural double-pupils waivered, then shifted to regard the humans, and the mixed-eyed one more correctly. His face was solemn and remorseful. The orb cluster didn't power down.

Slowly, with a hesitant care meant not to spook him, Kakashi eased down to his knees and bowed his head to the dirt.

"Forgive me, Naruto. I already knew how you felt. I knew that this could happen and pushed you anyway. I take full responsibility for putting you in this situation. Kill me, if you need to."

The other humans rustled in fidgety unease but said nothing.

**Would deserve it. Wanted this. All want this. Give it to them, then. Let them have it.**

"Oi," his other thing barked from beneath him. He looked to it, and found a furious expression made only more potent by the fatigue it had to fight through. It was his dark-haired thing. The eyes that beheld him were full of accusation and empty of fear. "You'd really kill someone bowing to you? He's an ally, dumbass. Can't you see that?"

**Allies? These are. Are not. Are too. Are** _**not** _ **. Are** _**too.** _

He couldn't tell. They were acting like it now. His things thought so. But he'd been so _sure_ … If he was _wrong_ , he'd kill allies. If he was _right_ , though… They'd kill him. They'd kill his things.

**Don't let. Don't let. Don't let. Protect. Protect. Protect.**

He tensed and prepared to fire. They fled, the humans, all but the one. The mixed-eyed man stayed where he was, head bowed, accepting. A siren went off in his head.

He was the real one. The time when the mixed-eyed man could have dodged passed. He didn't, and it sent warning bells of unfathomable urgency and volume off in his head.

**NO NO NO NO NO. Wrong. Wrong. Was wrong! Was wrong! Don't kill! Don't kill. Another of our things! Another of our things! Must protect as well! Must protect!**

It was too late though. The orbs were destabilizing. Warping reality around them, burning in his gullet, shrieking like a collapsing star. There was no chance—no way to stop it now—he wasn't _moving!_

Naruto's neck snapped like a tree limb, spinning around till his mouth was aimed straight up at the sky.

The explosion that rocked out of him was everything, driving him into the ground till he almost touched his things below. The noise was deafening. The beam that fired was like a solid mass, stabbing the heavens past where the eye could see. In an instant, all the clouds in Konoha's sky evaporated. It was like the sun had been dropped on top of them, too bright to look at, too _raw_ to behold. It lasted only seconds, but for those gathered in Training Ground Five, it seemed an eternity.

When it was over, and the aftershocks stopped, and people's senses returned to them, it became clear that nobody was hurt. Naruto was buried to his forearms and shins in the earth, Sakura and Sasuke were huddled beneath him, the gathered Konoha ninja were safely scattered all around them, and Kakashi, as he had been through it all, remained on his knees, head bowed, there, just a few meters away.

More Konoha ninja were finally arriving on the scene but were kept back by those who'd been there from the start. The Godaime appeared, flanked by a full ANBU squad, and observed impassively from the back.

Naruto ignored them. The melted bits of his mouth and face healed and reformed in seconds. When he had eyes again, they looked only at the mixed-eyed man.

Ears lying flat against his skull, the five-tailed Naruto whined piteously.

Kakashi looked up and realized he was alive, calm in a way that betrayed how ready for death he was. The whining drew his gaze.

Their eyes met.

Naruto yipped, unsure.

Kakashi's lips gave a faint twitch, and he nodded. He stood, walked straight over to him, and sighed. "Sorry, kid," he whispered, settling a hand atop his head. His palm sizzled, but he bore it, until Naruto ducked away from his touch, rumbling his upset. Kakashi shrugged. "For my own sake. To remember by. I can't promise I won't ask you to do stuff you hate, but… I swear, as much as I can, I'll do right by you three going forward. Believe it."

A new hand found his forearm. His muscles jumped. He looked down, and there, one of his things—

**Sasuke.**

— _Sasuke_ , was grimacing, his own palm burning as well. After a few seconds, he let go.

"Fuck, that hurts," he complained, clenching his injured hand and brandishing it up at him. "Next time," he swore, eyes wavering, consciousness fading rapidly, "you won't have to save me."

He passed out. Naruto eyed them all, expression unreadable. They were a sight, all bloody, dirty messes. A matching set. Sasuke and Sakura were unconscious beneath him. Kakashi stood patiently before him.

**Maybe…**

The other shinobi gathered around looked on with open hostility and fear, but these three…

_A little paradise in Hell. All I need._

Tension bled off of him. He nodded at Kakashi, then stood, stabbed his fingers into his stomach, and _turned._ Raw, but already healing, the ancient power evaporated off of him. Slowly, Kurama began to heal him. He pitched forward, eyes fluttering closed. Kakashi caught him before he could hit the ground.

**Maybe…**

He passed out in his sensei's arms, the rest of his team close by.

* * *

**Author's Note: You made it! While my chapters tend to be long in general, this was an especially lengthy one that I only decided to keep as a single entity after much deliberation. Do not expect equal length from most future chapters. Also, please keep in mind that this story is AU, meaning that anything from the canonical Naruto universe is subject to change or elimination. That said, please feel free to provide feedback in a review. While there are several things that are meant to be mysterious at this point in the story, I still want to know if I am being unclear in spots. Thank you again for reading. See you next week with Chapter Three!**


	3. Chapter Three

**The Leaf Saga: Chapter Three**

_Warnings:_ _A_ _lternate_ _U_ _niverse, graphic violence, adult themes._

* * *

**Tea Country, Three Months Later**

* * *

Tsunade Senju laid naked beneath sheets of pale satin, her long flaxen hair spread messily about. The sun was dawning slowly beyond her inn window, its warm colors like spilled cherry mixer bleeding warm pinks across the cold blue remnants of the night's sky. She watched this slow transition hastlessly with hazel eyes and old fatigue both, her cheek nestled high in the crook of a manly neck.

Bobbers with bands of red and green and a reflective silvery material hung around their shared inn bedroom, silly good luck talismans characteristic of the locals and their superstitious culture. The ceiling was white-gone-yellow, a side effect of the inescapable sea salt riding thick in the air, with hand-sized swirls carved shallowly into its plaster. The endless white noise of the coast was a ghost in the air and the taste of salt on the tongue was omnipresent.

It was a perfectly serviceable inn room and would have been fine if not for the blight they'd brought with them. There, sat on the floor in the corner of the room beyond their discarded clothes, a stone idol stared silently, watching, judging, hating. It was a black thing carved of volcanic stone bearing the likeness of some gelatinous beast.

Though repulsive, the craftsmanship was not the issue. It was the _aura,_ exuding from the holes in its head,that strove to unsettle her. Tea country, practically an island but for its narrow northern border with Fire Country, was ever chilly with the sea's breeze, but the sheets, and especially the tall, brawny man she was pressed against, ought to have warmed her anyway.

With that malicious _thing_ so close it was hard not to feel cold.

She looked away and did her best to put it out of her mind.

How the great pervert she lay with had managed to talk her into _that_ last night was beyond Tsunade.

'Sake,' she thought, a small smile on her painted lips. 'Lots and lots of sake.'

She buried her face into his bounty of shock-white hair, inhaling deeply the scents of mint and tobacco. He had a pipe but only ever puffed on it after sex or if they got to talking too long about their old dead sensei. It was an elegant piece carved from dull ivory with a self-lighting seal and the markings of generations gone by all about it. The tobacco he favored was the same as their sensei had before him: red-dirt tobacco from eastern Fire Country. It was not expensive, but carried in it a distinct flavor, and so, a distinct scent as well.

In the beginning Tsunade had thought she would hate it. She didn't.

The spiced scent teasing in her nose, she felt thoughts of past nights rise in the back of her mind. She recalled fondly memories of reclining back in bed after the deed, watching over top an unread book as he gazed quietly up at the moon, taking in long, even drags, and exhaling soft, meandering haze.

Sometimes he didn't smoke, even after a night spent in passion. On those nights when the urge did not seize him, they simply held each other, usually in silence. Storytelling was as deep in him as the marrow in his bones though, and so often those 'silences' would instead be filled with tales from his past—most of which she long-since knew but which she relistened to without complaint. On the rarest of nights, she would share stories of her own. His attention on those occasions was infinite and filling.

There were worse men in this world to call husband. After ten years, the word no longer felt strange on her tongue.

"Hime," he murmured, voice deep and froggy and full of the morning.

Laid against him as she was, Tsunade could feel his vocal cords vibrating as he spoke. She'd been born with an amplified sense of touch and had developed a tactile fixation soon after which remained to this day. The extra physical sensitivity had its ups and downs, contributing to her medical mastery in some situations but amplifying her sensitivity towards pain. Whatever the result, right now, it meant that his vibrating diaphragm was pleasantly ticklish beneath her cheek and breasts.

She smothered a smile and pressed closer into him, rubbing at his neck with the soft tip of her nose.

He slid his hand across the mattress till it found her waist where it squeezed.

"Ready?" he asked, a lone dark eye creaking open. "It's about time, don't you think?"

She pulled back to look at him. "No," she said, shaking her head. "There's no rush."

He blinked, waking up more. There was a tightness in his eyes. "We need to get back…"

Tsunade's own features tensed, her smile fading. "Hanori said she can take us across whenever. Strom season is over. The sea will be calm till January… We've only been gone a few months."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. She used the opportunity to rise in bed, now supporting herself on an elbow and a forearm. The sheets slid down her as she rose, leaving her heavy, firm breasts exposed to him and the cool air both, causing her nipples to pebble erotically.

His eyes tracked downward like clockwork but held in them an un-fooled wisdom, hidden like a tripwire beneath the blooming amore and attraction.

That was fine. Her goal wasn't to trick him, only to persuade.

She did not look forward to the next phase of their mission, once they returned to headquarters. A protracted delay suited her better. Like this, she could almost pretend...

The instant his eyes rose back to meet her own, she knew it was over. The bedrock of her beliefs had been chipped away at over the decades, one tragedy, one betrayal, one sacrifice at a time. Where Jiraiya still had stone, there was only sand for her to stand on now. Going against him was pointless.

Whereas the deaths of those she cared for and the start of yetanotherGreat War had robbed her of her sense of purpose, his was only hardened.

They did well together—made each other happy, shared a value system, respected one another—but for all that, Tsunade knew that she was only a part of this endeavor because of him. Her hopes and dreams were dead, like Dan and Nawaki and Sarutobi and Shizune and... and everyone else. She believed in the cause they fought for only in the most remote way. Her mind agreed with saving the world but her heart was too tired. Were their fate left up to her, she would see them flee and frolic until death finally caught up.

It was for him and his vision that she kept fighting.

Defeated, Tsunade sighed, leaned up to capture his lips in a quick kiss, and then pulled back.

His expression was regretful but relieved.

"Well, come on then. We can at least eat before we go, right?"

Her tone was not exactly questioning, and he was wise to agree.

The rest of the morning was a simple affair. The two dressed and packed, checked out of the salty sea-side inn, and enjoyed a simple sticky-rice-and-egg-yolk breakfast before heading off for the docks.

Their manner of dress drew no unwelcomed stares as they went about it. Black cloaks ornamented with deep red clouds did not mean in Tea Country what they meant in Rain. The stone idol hidden away inside their pack caused some unease, but per Tsunade's request Jiraiya was able to adjust his seal. With fifteen minutes of tinkering, the captured Six-Tailed Slug emitted only the faintest of auras.

It was hours later on their boat when Tsunade heard him mumble.

"Hmm?" she asked, turning from the ferryman to her husband.

Jiraiya blinked and looked up away from his palm, the black ink lettering there already fading to nothingness.

News then.

"It's almost time," he said, looking back down, his eyes full of conflicting emotions. "I just got confirmation. They're sending him out there this week..."

Tsunade nodded in understanding and looked away.

_Uzumaki Naruto, huh?_

She wasn't looking forward to the coming months. Not one bit.

* * *

**Konoha, Uzumaki Residence, Three Days Later**

* * *

Sakura stood on her teammate's door stoop, the mid-summer's night air almost chilly across her bare arms and calves. She'd changed from her combat medic uniform earlier after Kakashi-sensei released them from drilling and wore a simple black tank top and shorts now. After spending all day beneath the oppressive sun she appreciated the night's cool caress.

A warm flush high in her cheeks kept any excess cold from bothering her. It was amazing how sweet even the cheapest sake could taste after a long day's work.

The succulent scent of roast duck and garlic leaked from Naruto's apartment door. Her stomach rumbled silently at the smell and Sakura smiled eagerly. Good God but the boy could cook—and a good thing, too. She was starving.

She raised a thin hand to knock but the door was already being opened for her by then, Sasuke's tall handsome figure cutting a dark silhouette in the entryway. She spent a brief half-second admiring the way his shirt fit him before offering a smiling hello.

He returned it with a disapproving frown. "You've been drinking."

Sakura's ears grew hot. "Barely," she objected, stepping closer into the doorway and stealing a quick look around. "Is Kakashi here yet?"

Sasuke sighed and moved inside, leaving her to get the door. "Of course not. Do you really need to ask such stupid questions?"

Sakura's face heated further. "Do you really need to be such an _ass_ all the time, Sasuke?"

He rolled his eyes, entirely unaffected by her anger, and stalked off down the hall.

Eye twitching, she watched him go for a second and then kicked her shoes off in a huff. He was always like that. Abrasive for its own sake. It was a constant struggle not to lose her temper with him.

_With all of them_.

Sighing, she patted her shorts and stood, heading for the kitchen.

Naruto's apartment was a painfully plain affair, although the bulk of the blame for that lay on time rather than his slim shoulders. His was a simple village-supplied shinobi dwelling, with white-tile floors, painted cinderblock walls, a tin roof, and little else. Oil lanterns provided all the light, of course, and filled the narrow halls and small rooms with an intimate glow. No decorations hung from his walls, and only the most generic of items topped his shelves such as shinobi gear and, in the bathroom, hygienic supplies. Sakura had only been in his room a few times, but knew from them that, save bedding and a tatami mat to sleep on, his private quarters were no more interesting than the rest of the apartment. Only in his kitchen-slash-dining room did he have more than was absolutely necessary. With him only just getting back a few months ago and their deployment tomorrow Sakura didn't blame him for keeping things stock. The boy was never home anyway, and as he'd said the one time decorating was brought up, "Why bother?"

_Why bother indeed._

She rounded the corner and found him fussing about the oven, a normal enough sight in recent times. He likely sensed her from two blocks away but still looked up and greeted her as though only just noticing her arrival. The awkward wholesomeness was characteristic of their interactions—something she found both trying and endearing depending on her mood.

"Sakura," he greeted, deep blues soft but happy. "Welcome."

She smiled back through the warm feelings rising inside her, another, different heat in her ears. He had black hakama pants on but nothing else. A shirtless Naruto was neither rare nor much different from his usual open-robed self but faced with his soft smile she found herself noticing his improved physique all the same. Their training was intense, and it showed.

Tearing her gaze from his obliques, she smiled and spoke back. "Heya. Smells great."

He turned away, a visible blush overtaking his whiskered cheeks. Sakura was torn between rolling her eyes and giggling. So far tonight she'd have to say she was finding his awkwardness more endearing than not. It was a welcome break from the way things had been going lately. Everyone's stress levels were high. It was partially why they were together tonight, although meeting outside of drilling was not in itself uncommon for them. The main reason they were gathering though...

"What's Sasuke doing?" Naruto asked without turning, keeping a careful eye on the work before him.

She watched him chop impossibly fine and even strips of scallion with a frown. "Who? Sasuke? About yay high, dark hair, complete jerk?" She held her hand a good four inches above her head, her lips an exaggerated curl.

Naruto was laughing quietly before he even turned, not pausing in his chopping until he caught sight of the blemish on her palm.

It wasn't even that bad, she thought, honestly, just a little stretch of skin that was off by a few shades. Matching marks could be found on Sasuke and Kakashi's palms as well. Really, the scars didn't hinder any of them in the slightest…

His strokes with the knife slowed, and his eyes fell from her.

That wasn't the point and Sakura knew it.

Her smirk melted away. Forces fought in her, but as had been the case for the past three months their struggle ended in a stalemate. Neither of them spoke. She didn't know how to talk about this kind of stuff any better than he did—any better than _any_ of them did—and so, just, _hadn't…_ None of them had as far as she knew.

They were a matching set, she thought, the whole of Team Seven. An awkward, damaged, antisocial lot. It probably wasn't good.

"Is it ready?" a voice suddenly asked, scaring the daylights out of Sakura. She flinched away from the sound hard only to force herself to relax a moment later. It was just Kakashi, still in his full jonin uniform, leaning against the countertop as though he'd been there all along. A quick glance back at Naruto showed his lack of a reaction.

_Those senses again…_

It would have been annoying if not for the fact that they'd be in the thick of it soon enough. As things stood, Sakura was thankful to be on such a competent team. Naruto was an obvious boon, and as far as Kakashi went, even after a mere three months spent training beneath the man, she found it difficult to imagine that anyone stronger or more capable even existed. And, thinking about it honestly and ignoring the remnants of her annoyance at him, Sakura had to admit that having Sasuke placed on her team was a great stroke of luck as well. As tactless as he could be his skills were indisputable. Plus, there was another side to him, hidden away… It intrigued her.

That, too, was a common quality of her teammates—she found them all quite interesting.

"Almost, Sensei," Naruto answered, cutting through her thoughts while applying the finishing touches with uncharacteristic confidence.

Sakura watched silently. Imperfect, hot headed, damaged… it didn't really matter. Team Seven worked well together and had grown close in what felt like no time flat. This much she was unspeakably grateful for.

She couldn't imagine marching off to war tomorrow with anyone else.

The only one missing now was—

"Look who showed up," Sasuke said, walking in from down the hall.

Right on time.

Sakura turned and saw that he'd come from the bathroom, but between not hearing a flush and the unhealthy pallor she was just noticing, deduced he must be ill once again.

She chewed at her lip in discrete worry. It was like clockwork, his condition—whatever it was. Every two weeks he'd show up for training looking absolutely gutted, his mood foul and his actions sluggish. If he'd been like this before, in the academy, she certainly hadn't noticed. It was some kind of stomach ailment, she thought, based on how he moved on those days.

It was strange though. Following the pattern, he shouldn't be like this for another three or four days.

She tried talking to him about it, just once, only to leave nearly in tears. The things he'd said were truly awful… so much so he actually came and apologized to her the next day, which really meant something because as they'd all learned _Sasuke did not apologize_. She'd reluctantly accepted and asked again only to be shut down once more if in a less traumatic fashion.

Speaking with Kakashi on the subject had been like conversing with a brick wall and by the time she brought it up with Naruto, Sakura had begun to feel like a pest, butting in where she was unwelcome. She could hardly help it though, seeing as it was literally part of her job to worry about the team's health. At least Naruto had agreed to help keep an eye on him.

If she'd known he was sick today she'd have given the liquor a pass… probably. She knew he found it disdainful, but he usually didn't comment.

Back in the land of the living, better known as Naruto Uzumaki's small kitchen area, Kakashi was returning Sasuke's unimpressed look with one of his own. Snapping back to herself, Sakura couldn't help but notice the chance fate had given her to throw Sasuke's earlier words back in his face. Kakashi _was_ on time, after all.

She managed to reign herself in. Curiosity at Kakashi's early-for-him presence helped.

Why _was_ he on time? More than one set of eyes leveled in his direction held the question in them.

Kakashi shrugged and left the unspoken question equally unanswered. The bastard.

Sakura's lips pursed in annoyance. It was just like him to mess with them for no explicable reason. It'd be worse if she pressed. Their time together had been short, but three months was _plenty_ to learn how irritating Kakashi could be when he set himself to it. There was no getting him to do or answer for anything if he didn't feel like it. She tried not to let it get to her, to instead interpret it as training, but her efforts were mostly wasted. It was because he always had this look in his eye, like he was following along your train of thought and found the whole exercise inordinately amusing. It was that feeling of being the butt of some joke that truly pissed her off.

Whether Sasuke or Naruto shared her feelings, Sakura could only guess. Either way, the result was none of them bothered asking why Kakashi had chosen to show up on time. By now they had all learned to go with the flow and adjust as need be.

"Can someone please set the table?" Naruto asked, soft voice cutting through the silence. He was bent at the waist, retrieving the glazed, golden-brown duck from the woodfire oven. His back muscles hardened nicely as he stood and looked back at them from over his shoulder. "Supper's ready."

They did as he asked, with Sasuke fetching the plates and Kakashi divvying up tableware and bleached cloth napkins while Sakura herself saw to the lighting and drinks.

_"Katon,"_ she whispered, breathing a miniscule flame, lighting the wicks of a pair of tall dining candles and positioning them on the table. She was no Sasuke, but even an earth-nature like her could manage a flame this small. That done, she moved to the oil lanterns and dimmed them a smidge. From the same cabinet Sasuke had ventured to she retrieved the only cups Naruto owned—an orange-stained set of four she'd helped him pick out from the market—and set them out accordingly, a sweating pitcher of water already served and on the table.

Prep done, Team Seven sat, each claiming their usual chair around a simple square table. One by one Naruto brought over the three dishes: golden-glazed, savory roast duck; heavily peppered, slick okra; and a generous portion of sticky rice, flavored with flecks of chopped green onion.

It wasn't anything outlandish—with Naruto it hardly ever was—but it all smelled delicious, the savory aroma of the garlic and pepper and honey glaze all mixing in Sakura's nose like careless lovers. Her soft, smiling lips hid a mouth that watered. Her eyes flicked to the water pitcher as Naruto sat. Good God, if only the boy would serve her some soft red wine… he might find his futon crowded tonight.

Sakura almost giggled at her own silly thought, but with the shirtless blonde finding his seat, she instead joined in with a chorusing, "Itadakimasu," and waited to be served. As tradition dictated in these scenarios Kakashi was the one to portion out the food, carving the duck and dividing the sides without fanfare. When it came her turn and he placed even more duck on her plate than he had on the boys', Sakura realized her gluttonous look had been noticed, and blushed. She could only hope her other, newer cravings had been missed. Even without his Sharingan Kakashi was inhumanly perceptive, but a girl could hope, yes?

Ears and cheeks dusted pink, she set in on the meal with deliberate grace and restraint, dining with the rest of her team in silence. Their first deployment as Team Seven was less than ten hours away... but thoughts of it could wait. For now, they were all of one mind, and wished only for one last meal shared in the relative peace and safety of Konoha.

* * *

**Konoha's West Gate, the Following Morning**

* * *

Naruto worried at the hem of his black robe, rubbing a pinch of its sturdy cloth between his fingers as he waited with the rest of Team Seven for their entourage to arrive.

The shinobi village of Konoha was not-so-neatly split into four quarters, with the Residential Sector on the southeast, the Market Sector on the southwest, the Military Sector on the northwest, and the Industrial Sector on the northeast. The Residential Sector, as one might expect, was the quarter of Konoha with the largest concentration of homes and apartments and was where most of the village returned to at night. The Market Sector was where, unsurprisingly, the village's traders and merchants and craftsman operated, running everything from weapon shops to dango stands. The Military Sector was itself divided into two primary regions: The Great Clan Compounds and the training grounds. The final quarter, the Industrial Sector, was where the bulk of Konoha's facilities were located, including the schools, administrations buildings, hospital, maintenance facilities, and more. The Fire Tower, where the Godaime Hokage overlooked the village, stood tall in the center of it all.

There was plenty of bleed-over from each corner into the others, but as a general rule, the layout of Konoha roughly adhered to this organization.

The West Gate where Naruto waited now was located in the Market Sector.

A hard-packed road of bark-brown dirt stretched out from the closed gate, winding a sinuous path into the village that split often and irregularly, framed on either side by bulging storefronts and rickety peddler carts, only a few of which were open for business this early in the morning. Jammed so closely together, with their thick ornamented rooftiles and winding, serpentine arrangement, the long rows of shops seemed mythical in the early morning mist, like a pair of armor-plated dragons not yet awoken.

The sky above hid behind a haze of smoky grey rain clouds. From the far side of the horizon, over top the carved visages of Hokages passed, faint rumbles could be heard, promising the belly of the encroaching storm soon enough.

"Any day now…" said Sasuke, the look on his face mirroring the weather, his jaw set with impatience.

Naruto stopped picking at his robe. "One of them's just around that bend," he said, pointing down to where the road curved out of sight.

"And the other?"

Naruto's head cocked to the side. "Dunno."

Sasuke's teeth clicked as he shut and ground them.

"They're most likely with the cart," said Kakashi, lone dark eye failing to open as he spoke. Leaned back against the monolithic gates as he was, Naruto had though the man to be sleeping.

"Sensei? We're traveling with a cart?" Sakura asked, looking up from the book she was reading, her glowing viridian palm lighting the pages and her face both in an eerie light.

"It's not just fresh troops that are needed on the frontlines, Sakura. Food, medicine, supplies—sourcing them from the locals can be… difficult. Using reinforcements to escort said supplies kills two birds with one stone."

"We'll be on the road for a _month_ ," Sasuke ground out.

"Is that true?" Naruto asked, careful to keep the hope out of his voice.

Kakashi straightened from his slump. "Not exactly. I'll explain when everyone's here."

He nodded past them.

Sakura's face scrunched up as she squinted into the dark. "Team Ten?"

Sasuke's eyes flashed red for an instant. "Eight," he corrected.

Naruto watched the genin squad approach for a moment, then turned to his teammates. "Do you guys know them?"

Sasuke's gaze flickered to him, but though his face remained frozen in a sneer, there was no heat in his eyes. "Obviously."

Naruto blushed and scraped a big toe through the dirt. "That's not what I meant. Are any of your… friends on that team?"

Sasuke scowled and looked off to the side without another word.

"Hinata-chan is nice," Sakura said, shooting Sasuke a flat look before addressing Naruto. "Although," she hedged, eyes trained on his exposed chest and abs, "you may find it difficult getting her to talk."

"Not as difficult as getting her mutt teammate to shup up."

Naruto's brows knit into a frown.

Sakura looked like she'd tasted something sour but didn't contradict him. "That'd be Kiba Inuzuka," she supplied. "And Sasuke's right. He's a braggard."

"Okay," said Naruto, plans to avoid this 'Kiba' already taking shape. "Anything I should know about the other genin or their sensei?"

Sakura shivered. "I don't know their sensei, but as for Shino… Got any strong feelings about bugs?"

Naruto blinked. "Not particularly."

"Then no."

"Hush up now," Kakashi said, flicking Naruto's ear as he stepped forward. "They're getting close."

"Why _me_?"

Kakashi eye-smiled.

Naruto huffed and looked away, a faint, pleased blush on his cheeks. It was embarrassing how much it meant to him that Team Seven was willing to touch him after seeing what he really was—even if it _was_ just Kakashi flicking his ear or Sasuke shoving his shoulder or Sakura's brief hugs.

The feeling of another human's warmth, when unaccompanied by fear or hatred or violence, was a rare treat.

'I will keep you safe,' he promised.

The faint scent of carrion ghosted his nose, accompanied by rumbling agreement. He sent the feelings of gratitude and solidarity swelling within him to Kurama, his love for the ancient demon woven throughout.

The creature sharing his soul was incapable of returning it, but the pleasant, alien warmth it sent out was enough for Naruto.

A womanly call of "Hatake-san," drew his attention.

"Yuhi-san! Good morning. I'm surprised Asuma isn't with you."

Naruto could tell there was something hidden in Kakashi's words by the crinkle of his eye and the faint tension his words spawned in the woman's shoulders, but for the life of him, had no idea what it could be. Rather than puzzle on it, he took the pause to properly look over Team Eight.

The jonin leading the team would have been the epitome of the term 'conventional beauty', if not for one thing.

_Goodness, her_ _eyes_ _._

The jonin's hair fell to just past her shoulders in rich dark waves, curling at the ends. Healthy cheeks and an angular chin gave her an appearance of gentle beauty, but her full lips, heavy bust, and wide, sensual hips betrayed the chaste impression. For all that she wore the same jonin uniform as Kakashi, Naruto couldn't help noticing how much better it looked on her. Flustering as her body was, her eyes held his attention far tighter. Red like fresh-spilt blood, he was at first reminded of the Sharingan, although her lack of tomoe and the fact that Sasuke was the last of his clan cast doubt on that impression.

More than the color, it was the contradiction in her eyes that fascinated him. The shade mismatched the kindness swimming within.

To either side of her, trailing just behind, were the three genin members of Team Eight.

All three of them were garbed in the Tracker Program's signature black shozoku, although the manner in which they wore it differed wildly.

One had ripped off the sleeves and legs of the traditional nin-garb, leaving it nearly unrecognizable. Without either his face mask or head cover up, Naruto wondered if describing him as wearing a shozoku was even appropriate anymore. His eyes were wild dark slits, which combined with his shaggy oak hair and shredded robes gave the genin an animalistic air. The carmine fangs tattooed on his cheeks, and the wolfish grin stretching them, told Naruto that this was most likely Kiba Inuzuka, the one he'd been warned about. He was about Naruto's height but stocky and strapped with muscle.

By his side trailed a hip-tall wolf hound with shock-white hair and a friendly face. A yawn from the dog revealed that within that friendly face waited a mouth full of finger sized teeth. Like its master, the wolf hound wore a hitai-ate around its neck.

Beside Kiba was the other male member of Team Eight. Tall and lanky, Naruto understood this one to be 'Shino'. He wore his shozoku with the sleeves and legs still attached, but that wasn't to say it was in better condition than Kiba's. Dozens of inch-long slits had been sliced into the loose-fitted garb giving it a tattered appearance. Also unlike his teammate, Shino wore the Tracker Program's uniform with the hood up and the facemask on. He had even gone so far as to don a pair of shaded black goggles. With the bulk of his face and body hidden beneath his uniform, the boy gave off a cold, unsympathetic aura.

Opposite them on the jonin's other side was the last member of Team Eight. Though she technically wore the same black shozoku as her teammates, after observing the state theirs were in, her own pristine, unmodified nin-garb seemed almost strange. She wore her hood and face mask like Shino but without goggles, leaving her cream-white eyes exposed. A strip of indigo-black bangs peeked out of her hood with two longer tresses that hung free and framed her face. She was about Sakura's height, but when the wind blew and pressed her loose-fitted shozoku tight, he saw the outline of her curves. The womanly fullness of her thighs and breasts were unalike to his teammate's petite figure.

Hairs rose on the nape of Naruto's neck, sending his eyes shooting back up. When they did, he saw the girl, 'Hinata', staring at him.

Their eyes locked for a split second and then danced away at the same time. Pink crept into Naruto's cheeks, and though Hinata's face was hidden, the shy tucking of her chin told the same story.

His inspection of Team Eight lasted for only a moment after which the conversation between Kakashi and Yuhi-san continued.

"You haven't heard?" she asked, fine dark eyebrows turning down. "The mission's changed. Hokage-sama's orders should have reached you last night. Are you saying you weren't notified?"

Kakashi shrugged easily. "I was out training. Guess the ANBU couldn't find me. What's changed, Kurenai?"

Naruto thought that was weird since he could have sworn Kakashi went home after dinner, but he said nothing. The scarecrow probably stopped by his apartment to gather some kit, was all. The newly dubbed 'Kurenai' seemed to find his sensei's statement odd as well, if the narrowing of her eyes was any indication.

Suspicion lingered in her gaze, but after a quick look at the genin of Team Seven, she said, "Supplies aren't all we're escorting."

"What else are we guarding, Kurenai-sensei?" Sakura asked.

"Prisoners."

As though summoned by her words, another genin squad came into view from down the road along with a wagon full of child-sized sealing scrolls, behind which trailed a man and a woman bound at the wrists to the cart.

Naruto watched as one of the genin—the lone female of the group—turned to her jonin sensei and asked, "Can I?", the sound of her bubbly voice clear to his ears even from so far away.

She got a grudging sigh for an answer, which apparently meant yes since she then took off down the road towards them.

"Sakura-chan!" the girl sang, a wide smile stretching her lips. She jogged past Team Eight without so much as a glance, heading straight for Sakura without breaking stride.

The pinkette in question wore a strained, indulgent smile.

"Sakuraaaa, chan!" the blonde-haired girl sang again, leaping into Sakura's arms, wrapping her legs around her slim midsection.

Naruto watched with wide eyes as the girl pressed several loud kisses into his teammate's cheeks, coming dangerously close to her lips more than once.

He waited in stunned silence for Sakura to eviscerate the blonde.

She didn't. Her averted gaze and tense muscles spoke of discomfort, but her hands still wrapped themselves around the girl's waist, supporting her weight. Sakura's only resistance came in the form of a quiet, "Ino-chan, come on now," and that, only after several seconds.

Naruto looked around, saw the lack of surprise on any of the gathered genins' faces, and realized he was missing something. Horribly unused to social interactions as he was, _this_ was obviously abnormal.

Ino gave rubbing her cheek against Sakura's a break to aim a pouty look, her lips poking out with childish exaggeration. "I've missed you, Sakura-chan. How come you haven't stopped by my office? I told you you're always welcome."

The strain in Sakura's smile grew. "I've been busy, Ino… and I told you, the Torture and Interrogation Headquarters gives me the heebie-jeebies." A serious glint worked itself into Sakura's eyes. "I stopped by your house and your mom said you moved out. She sounded worried about you…"

The bubblegum grin on Ino's face dropped. She released her leg-lock and returned to her feet. "Oh," she said, tossing her long, platinum-blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Did that cow say anything else?"

"Ino…"

"Whatever. I moved into my office in T&I after I graduated. It's like, totally no big deal…" her voice trailed off, and her gaze along with it. When she turned and aimed her pale blues in his direction, Naruto got his first proper look at the kunoichi. What he saw made his cheeks warm.

Her hair was long enough to reach her butt in the back and hide one of her eyes in the front, its shade of blonde much fairer than his own. The eye not hidden by platinum-blonde was a foggy sky-blue and lay in a face defined by pillowy lips and a button nose. Her build was that of a fashion model—tall and thin yet with enough suppleness to fill out her female traits.

Her _dress_ was that of an S&M mistress.

Face warm, Naruto took an instant to get over her chosen outfit: heels, fishnet leggings, a black miniskirt, black elbow-length gala gloves, a cropped black leather jacket that ended a few inches above her navel, and an _unmistakable_ lack of anything else. With no shirt beneath her jacket, Ino's cleavage and midriff were left brazenly on display.

As his eyes were drawn to the pale vertical line rising from her jacket, Naruto spotted the Torture and Interrogation pin affixed to her lapel. The sight of it, a hand with half the skin flayed off, brought the answer to his internal question of _why the hell is she dressed like that?_

'Torturer,' he thought, reclaiming control over his flustered head. 'One more tool in her arsenal.'

As expected of an interrogation specialist, Ino read his emotions as they played across his face like a book.

The smirk on her plush lips was not a little wicked.

"But you know who _is_ a big deal…"

She took a single sashaying step in his direction.

"Alright Ino, knock it off," a rich deep voice broke in. The rest of Team Ten had arrived, their cargo in tow. "Before you bite off more than you can chew."

The man speaking, Asuma, was as tall as Kakashi and at least more muscular by half, with powerful arms, broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a thick neck. His skin was bronze and his hair was thick and black, grown short and spiky both on his head and chin. He wore the standard jonin uniform and a laid-back smile, a limp lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Troublesome woman," one of the genin of Team Ten said, hands folded behind his head. He was about Naruto's size both in height and build, with unruly coal-colored hair tied back in a high pineapple ponytail. His features were set in such a way that Naruto couldn't decide whether the boy was bored or annoyed, his scowling eyes at odds with the lazy slant to his lips.

The boy's getup struck him as painfully mundane. With a dark-green farmer's shirt, tan work pants and dull leather boots, Naruto could have easily mistaken him for a civilian. The small black widow tattooed on the boy's neck revealed the truth.

'The Assassination Corps,' Naruto realized with shock, his previous impression of the boy flipping on its ear. He didn't come off as an assassin, but then, Naruto supposed that was the point.

A loud gulp drew his eyes to the final member of the team.

He was tall for fourteen, taller even than Shino, and large around the middle for any age. His mane of spiky chestnut hair only added to the sense of size. He had kind brown eyes and a face softened with chubbiness. Two red swirls decorated his cheeks, which bulged and moved as he continued to work on a kebab.

Like Sasuke, he wore an olive-green camo Vanguard vest. Unlike Sasuke, his didn't meet in the middle. Instead, his belly bowed out, hidden behind a simple black sleeveless shirt. He also wore tan combat shorts and simple sandals.

He gulped down another mouthful of barbequed lamb and said, "Anko-sensei's been a bad influence on you, Ino-chan."

Said girl's face adopted a nasty smile. "Shikamaru, Choji. Quick to bellyache, slow to do anything else. How typical."

Kiba's teeth flashed as he laughed. "She's got you bums there. I'm surprised you two are even here. I would have thought war would be too _troublesome_ for you, Shika—and Choji, you know you're gonna be on rations from now on, right? Are you losers sure you're up for this?"

" _Hey_ ," Ino snapped, whirling around on the spot, pinning Kiba with a threatening look. "Don't think I'll let you talk to my boys that way, you shit-eating _mutt_." The anger in her voice was real, and when her hand started straying towards a weapon pouch in her jacket, Naruto tensed.

Kiba's grin grew wide. The wolf hound by his side started to growl, and though neither said anything, both Hinata and Shino took half-steps closer to their teammate.

Naruto felt like his skin was too tight on his frame. He saw Sasuke surreptitiously fingering a kunai, eyes a deep red with flecks of black. Sakura took a step forward to intervene, but just found herself the focus of both teams' hostile gazes.

Heart speeding, Naruto took three steps forward without thinking, a plea for everyone to calm down on the tip of his tongue.

Asuma and Kurenai blurred in front of their respective teams, creating a barrier between him and their genin. They did not draw their weapons on him, but their closed-off expressions and twitching fingers were enough.

He stopped short, hands that had been raised in a placating gesture now faltering by his chest, a look of quiet hurt twisting his face. It was gone in the next moment, replaced by a slackness that saw his arms falling limply to his sides. If he'd thought the standoffish air growing between the genin was uncomfortable, then the tension now thickening the air was unbearable.

"I didn't—" he started to say while stepping back, only to go quiet when he bumped into something. A wide-eyed glance over his shoulder revealed the rest of Team Seven.

They _had_ drawn their weapons. Sakura looked conflicted but nevertheless held a fistful of shuriken between her fingers, ready to be thrown. Sasuke didn't look conflicted at all, appearing perfectly willing to take the pair of kunai he was holding and bury them in anyone who dared to come closer. Kakashi didn't have a weapon in his hands and the look on his face was as lazy and unconcerned as ever, but his index finger did tap the top of a kunai holster, and something in the set of his shoulders betrayed a willingness to act.

Warmth exploded in Naruto's chest, fighting away the frosty numbness those looks had infected him with. He felt moisture try to gather in his eyes, so he closed them, a tiny, wobbly smile on his lips.

When he turned back, Naruto was again in control of his emotions. "Kurenai-sensei, Asuma-sensei," he began, bending at the waist in a formal bow, "forgive me. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna say that there will be more than enough enemies for us to face soon, and that we shouldn't waste our time fighting amongst ourselves."

He rose from his bow and watched as the tension eased from their shoulders. The sound of weapons being sheathed behind him helped relax the atmosphere further.

"Wise words, Naruto-kun," said Kurenai, looking a little abashed at her reaction. "But you shouldn't be the one apologizing. It's just…"

Asuma proved himself to be blunter in his speech. "We were there the day you went berserk, three months ago. It ain't like we doubt your loyalty, kid, but you left one hell of an impression. You'll have to pardon us if we're a little skittish." He pointed his bearded chin at Team Seven, a rueful grin on his lips. "Judging by this lot though, you're alright. Given enough time I'm sure we'll all get along. Well," he amended, shooting a pointed look at Ino and Kiba, "most of us will. Anyway, with that excitement out of the way, why don't we go over the mission and get going? There'll be plenty of time on the road to talk more."

Kakashi nodded and stepped forward, flashing Naruto a lightning-fast look of concern before convening with the other jonin.

A soft look entered Naruto's shining blues—a look he turned on Sakura and Sasuke in silent gratitude. Sakura beamed at him and seemed to swell with warm pride. Sasuke just sniffed and looked to the side, but there was no denying the highness of his chin or the softening of his brow.

A strange feeling grew in Naruto's chest. Somberness tempered his joy.

His brain imagined the scent of dead meat.

' **Boy?'** Kurama asked.

Naruto trailed his fingertips over his belly.

'I'm okay, partner. Just thinking.'

' **The war?'**

He gave the equivalent of a mental hum.

'I… I _really_ don't want to hurt people. Partner, I really don't.'

' **Your gentle nature… yes, I am aware. What of it?'**

The fingers he was tracing over his skin clenched slowly to a fist.

'But I also don't want them to die.'

A pause.

' **I see.'**

The sensation of Kurama shifting his titanic weight within his soul was indescribable. A pondersome mood overcame the fox and sent the sensation of icy needles poking down Naruto's legs.

' **You know the conditions for my aid, boy. Slaughter is not one of them. Whether you stay and fight or run and hide, it matters not to me.'**

Naruto broadcast the appreciation he felt without interrupting Kurama's train of thought.

' **That said… your desires are mutually exclusive. Pacifism would require your abstinence from this conflict, but to protect your new allies, you must kill. Their enemies will be significant in both power and number, and while skilled for their age, the Uchiha and the Haruno at least are still infants in the bigger picture. You must choose, boy. Only by fleeing into obscurity may you dodge carnage, and yet, only by defeating their enemies may you protect them.'**

'You're good at that, partner.'

' **Hm?'**

'Layin' stuff out.'

' **Time grants a certain sense of perspective. You will develop it too.'**

'I'll always seek your wisdom. Thank you,' he thought, casting a low, furtive glance at his team. 'I know what my choice will be.'

A slosh of warm liquid around his ankles, accompanied by the coppery stench of blood, proceeded Kurama's final prophetic words.

' **So be it, boy.'**

* * *

**Author's Note: The sharp witted among you will have noticed that several months have passed since the last update rather than the promised one week. I'll spare you all the hokey excuses and simply say, apologies for the delay. I won't make the mistake of issuing any concrete promises for this story again, but I can say that I am still working on it as my schedule allows. As always, reviews containing your reactions, criticism, and/or your hopes for this story are appreciated. Until next time, Dear Reader.**


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